


"Out of the Ashes"

by purpleu



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Alternative Universe Mixed with Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-19
Updated: 2015-10-07
Packaged: 2018-04-21 12:46:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 50,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4829660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purpleu/pseuds/purpleu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Awaken from a nightmare... step into a dream? So it would seem for House when he awakens from a medical coma after being injured in a construction accident. While upset by the death and injuries suffered by people he knows, his life becomes a whirlwind when Lydia from Mayfield walks back into his life. On his first day back at work after recovering from his injuries, will House be able to handle his patient, Wilson, his team, and Lydia, too? Let's hope that House can pull his life "Out of the Ashes."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. "From the Bottom Up"

“Out of the Ashes”

Chapter One – “From the Bottom Up”

By: purpleu

 

 

“Joshua fit the battle of Jericho, Jericho, Jericho … ”

The music and lyrics filled the space around him and found their way into House's mind.

“Joshua fit the battle of Jericho and the walls came tumbling down.”

Yes, indeed they did tumble down and all around him, landing in shapeless heaps. They raised clouds of dust creating a fog that matched his brain. It all made no sense, the fleeting images playing out in his head: a frightened woman, Cuddy's office, firefighters, bright lights, “just do the LP.” Hannah, “dating a man-child” “help me… ”

“Help me!” Help who? The woman, Cuddy? The firefighters?

“Help me!” He was laying in his bed in his apartment, a woman next to him. None of his “girls” ever stayed the night. The woman rolled over; it was Cuddy. “I lobe you.”

“Help me!” Driving quickly, going around in circles, laughing. Uncommon. Dancing, Cuddy in a gown. Rachel snuggling up to him, Thirteen nowhere to be seen. Wilson chasing a chicken, Taub's face everywhere, Foreman's apartment, video games…

“Help me!” Toothbrushes, toilet seats, garbage. Kidneys, tumors… Vicodin. “Please don't… ” Hookers, booze, swimming pool. “My body is a cage… “, Vicodin.

“Help me!" Mice in cages. More muscle? No, tumors. Dead mice in cages.

“Help me!” Get them out, a better leg, a better life. Bathtub butchery, unbearable pain, failed again…

“Help me!” House heard his voice echo, ringing in his ears, taunting him.

“Help Me!”

“Dr. House, what's wrong?” The voice was feminine, the touch on his arm, gentle. He slowly opened his eyes. They refused to focus right away, but after a moment conceded to his efforts to see. He was lying down; the woman standing to his right was in hospital scrubs. He became aware of a familiar sound; the rhythmic beeping of a vitals monitor. He looked up to his left; heart rate 83, blood pressure 118/ 79, O2 sats 98%. Whoever the monitor was connected to was still alive; he just hoped it was him. House turned to the woman in scrubs.

“Where… where am I?” His voice was hoarse, the words hesitant.

“Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital.” His eyes widened, startled at what he was told. A thorough look around the room told him he was in ICU.

“Why am I here? What happened to me?” He struggled to sit up, but his efforts were to no avail. His hands dropped down to his right leg; it was still there. So was his left.

“What the hell is going on?” House asked his voice louder and stronger than it was before, “Where's Cuddy? Where's Hannah?” He fell back onto the bed, the effort of speaking too much for him.

“Dr. House, please calm down. Dr. Wilson told me to page him as soon as you were fully awake. I'll get him for you.” She straightened the bed linens around him and checked his IV. “I'll be right back.” She left the room and House could see through the door that she went to the nurses' station and picked up the phone. House looked around the room for something to trigger his brain to start firing on all cylinders again. A clue, a glimmer of something, anything to help his memory. His cane. Where was it? He looked around, left, right, but no sign of it. Why? He didn't walk well without it; he wouldn't be far from it, if it could be avoided. Why didn't he have it? His mind swirled in a jumble of images; blocks of stone, clouds of dust, a dark, jagged tunnel… Hannah. He put his head in his hands.

“Help me!” he said aloud.

“House?” Standing at the door to his room was Wilson. He was clearly concerned at House's outburst, yet at the same time, it brought a smile to his face. House couldn't respond at first, unable to shake the images from his head. He took a few deep breaths trying desperately to regain composure.

“Wilson, what the hell happened to me? Where's Hannah and Cuddy?” Wilson was taken aback at House's last question.

“House, just slow down and take it easy. You've been to Hell and back. Not the first time in your life it's happened, but… ” The door to the room slid open and in walked House's team. They were all there; Foreman, Chase, Taub, Thirteen. But where the hell was Cuddy? “Okay, now that we're all here, let's help you try to make some sense of all this.” House cut him off.

“Where are Hannah and Cuddy?” he demanded. “Someone better tell me before… ” Before what he didn't know. His mind was still too dazed to come up with a smart-assed threat. Foreman spoke up.

“You were injured at the building collapse downtown.”

“House, please calm down,” said Thirteen. “Your BP and heart rate are spiking. Keep this up and you'll go back on Propofol.” He looked at her incredulously.

“You put me in a medical coma? Why?” He looked around at each of the team members accusingly. They all turned to look at Wilson. House followed their stares. “Why?”

“When you were brought in to the ER, you had all the signs of moderate head trauma; besides the wound on the back of your head, there was loss of consciousness, pupils fixed and dilated, loss of bladder function… ”

“So, I pee on myself and you decide to put me in a coma? It's a good thing you never had a kid. Or a dog.” Chase and Thirteen exchanged smiles; he was beginning to sound like House again. Wilson continued.

“It was decided, given your previous tolerance for strong medication, you could tolerate the Propofol. MRI revealed a little bruising on the brain, but given the depth of the wound on your head, it was best to just let your body rest and heal slowly. By some miracle, other than a few broken ribs, a partially collapsed lung, some wounds on your back that needed stiches, the head wound, and a bunch of bruises, you're OK. You are unbelievably lucky,” Wilson said ruefully.

“Lucky I didn't pull the stiches out of my leg,” House said conceding to Wilson. “But guess that's healed enough by now.” No one answered. He looked at them. “The surgery I did on my leg has healed, I assume.” It was as much a question as it was a statement.

“What surgery?” asked Taub.

“The surgery I did on my leg after the tumors developed.” They all stared at him as if he were quite insane. “I took some medication from the research lab where they were re-growing muscle in mice,” he said condescendingly, expecting them to know what he was talking about. “The medicine grew tumors, not muscle. The mice all died.” Still no response. “I had three tumors in my leg. I had to get them out before I wound up pinned down on a board for some high schooler's ultimate science fair project. I operated on myself in my bathtub.” He looked around the room, the silence weighing more and more heavily on him by the second.

“House,” said Foreman. “That never happened.” Foreman's words hung in the air like a death knell. What the hell was going on? There was no reason, no logic to them denying the events had happened. House knew he had been in the coma for a while, but he hadn't lost his mind; he… couldn't… lose… He looked at Thirteen. 

“You helped kill your brother when his Huntington's became too much. You pleaded down to a lesser charge. You went to jail for overprescribing.” The team and Wilson looked at him, slack-jawed.

“House, I don't have a brother. And I've never gone to jail,” Thirteen replied. He turned to Wilson.

“You hooked up with your first wife again… big time. You proposed to her at the wedding we went to.”

“My… my first wife, Sam? Why in God's name would I propose? Hook up… yeah, but propose? And what wedding?” House shook his head; none of this was real? He looked at Taub and Foreman

“You two bunkmates?”

“Excuse me?” asked Taub. House continued to look back and forth between the two. “No,” said Taub, “Foreman and I do not live together. I live with my wife Rachel. We are still having some problems, but we haven't separated. Yet.” House became more and more unsure of everything as the minutes went by. Those things happened. He knew they did, he could see it all clearly in his mind; the dress Cuddy wore to the wedding, picking up Thirteen at the prison.

“Cuddy and I started dating.” He looked at Wilson. “You and I babysat Rachel. The kid swallowed a dime and we had to bring her here to do an ultrasound without Cuddy finding out.” All in the room were stunned to hear House's words. “Cuddy got sick,” House said quietly. “She had a tumor in her kidney we thought had metastasized to her lungs. She broke up with me because I wasn't there for her.” He looked at them all for confirmation. There was none coming. Thirteen sat down on the end of the bed.

“You know that medically induced comas frequently have the side effect on a patient of vivid images… hallucinations… especially when they've been in the coma for a while. Psychologists believe they come from the subconscious, that they're not anything we have control over. It's not surprising that you believe all these things to be real. But, they're not.” Foreman stepped forward.

“House, nothing here has radically changed since you've been sedated. We're all still here; the cases we've taken on haven't been too extensive. Everything's been the same in the past couple of weeks.” House looked at him with a mixture of disbelief and confusion.

“Couple of weeks?” he asked. He looked to Wilson for help to explain it all.

“You remember the building collapse downtown? You, Cuddy and Foreman went down there. You were treating patients and when the crane operator was pulled out, you sent Foreman back here with him.” House nodded his head.

"Yeah, I went down there after I gave Cuddy her great-grandfather's book.” He stopped. “Cuddy and Lucas are engaged… ”

“Yes,” Wilson said as he looked at House's team. “Cuddy and Lucas got engaged.” House nodded his head and smirked.

“So that's why she's not here. She's on her honeymoon already, enjoying all the confines of dreaded bliss.” Wilson cleared his throat.

“House, you obviously remember a woman you were treating named Hannah.”

“Yeah, that's the one I've been asking about. Where is she?” House was getting agitated. Chase moved forward to House's bedside. An alarm was sounding from one of the monitors.

“House, you've loosened one of your leads. Let me... ” House grabbed him by his tie and pulled him down to him.

“Get away from me and tell me where my patient is.” Chase looked uncomfortable as he replied.

“She's dead.” House loosened his grip on him and Chase straightened up. “I'm sorry.” House sat expressionless as he processed the information. Wilson finally spoke up again.

“There was a secondary collapse. You, Hannah and some of the rescue workers were down in this …space…”

“It was a pocket of air, with a tunnel of sorts leading to it. It was her husband's birthday. She was picking up his present.” House tried to pull bits and pieces of information out of his brain. Eyes transfixed on the wall in front of him, House said, “Cuddy wanted to amputate the leg that was caught under debris. Hannah didn't want that. Neither did I. They were trying to lift the debris off her leg… I don't remember… I can't… ” He looked at Wilson desperately.

“The secondary collapse happened. You were trapped down there. So were some of the firemen. They managed to rescue all of you. Hannah was killed, probably instantly. She was still down there after they got you and the others to safety, the living being the priority. The EMTs knew she was dead, but somehow,” Wilson drew a deep breath, “Somehow that information didn't get to Cuddy.” House tore his gaze away from the wall and his eyes bore into Wilson.

“Where is she?”

“House… ”

“I know my name, damn it, where is she?” House threw the covers off, and with a great effort, swung his feet to the floor. He tried to stand, but stumbled, his knees buckling. Foreman and Thirteen caught him, and prevented him from hitting the floor.

“Get back in bed… ”

“Don't be crazy… ”

“You're in no shape… ”

“Tell me where she is!” demanded House.

“Rehab. She left yesterday. She's at Garden State Rehab and Nursing facility in south Jersey.” It was Taub who broke through the babble with the information House wanted. He saw the look on House's face, and wished he hadn't.

“Please get back in bed.” It was Thirteen speaking, gently easing him backward, with a firm hand on his chest. He complied, too stunned to fight. He leaned his head back and for the first time was aware of the acute pain coming from the back of his head, shoulders and lower back. The only thing that didn't seem to hurt, ironically, were his legs. He closed his eyes, and checked once again to make sure both were still there. He wasn't sure about anything anymore. Wilson, Taub, and Chase moved about the room nervously, not wanting to speak. Foreman sat in a chair by the window. Thirteen stood by House's bed, readjusting the medical equipment he was still attached to. He looked up at her, his eyes searching hers for anything that might lead him to believe that what he heard was a lie. But instead of redemption, he found damnation.

“Cuddy wasn't even down there with me, not when they were trying to lift up the concrete.” Wilson walked to House's bedside.

“Cuddy didn't know Hannah had been killed. She went down into the rubble to see if she could do something to help her. There was a third collapse. The rescue workers got to her right away, but the damage had already been done. Both lungs collapsed; she was without oxygen for a minimum of two to four minutes. Cardiac arrest, L1 through S1 vertebrae shattered, head injuries. It's a miracle she even survived. She can't walk, she can't feed herself, and she can't talk. She's not aware of anyone or anything going on around her.” Wilson choked up and stared down at the floor; he couldn't look at his friend. “I'm sorry House.” House looked at him, full comprehension of what Wilson just told him rolling over him like shock waves. Too many thoughts, too many questions invading his thought processes for him to focus on any one of them.

"How long has it been since the collapse?”

"A little over two weeks. First, you were under sedation for a while. The breathing tube was taken out about a week ago; you were doing well on smaller and smaller amounts of oxygen, so we started weaning you off the sedation about three days ago. It seemed like you were aware of things going on in the room a few times. I brought in some music, some of your CDs, hoping they would stimulate something once you were weaned off the meds." Nodding, House raised his head up so his gaze met Wilson's.

“Take me to her.”

“House, you're not ready to go anywhere right now. Besides, there's nothing you can do.”

“The hell I can't. Let me see her chart, let me see the x-rays, the Cat scans, the MRI. I'll figure something out.”

“There’s nothing to figure out. This isn't curable, this isn't going away… there’s no mystery to solve. No one can save her… not even you.” House looked away at Wilson's words. He wasn't used to being trumped and this time, it stung all the more. There were no hidden clues, no buried nuances in a medical history… Cuddy was a vegetable; brain dead and paralyzed and he was powerless to do a damn thing about it. 

“Get out. All of you get out,” House said intently. The team and Wilson exchanged looks, not sure what to do. “Get out!" he shouted, seeing that no one moved. “I recognize my voice, I know what I just said and so do you. Leave!” They all nodded and turned toward the door.

“Glad to have you back, House,” said Foreman turning back for a second.

“Yeah, me too.” Taub said. Chase walked over to the bed and held his fist up for a fist bump. House refused to look at him or return the gesture. Chase put his hand down.

“See you later, House,” he said as he left. Thirteen watched them walk away, and then leaned down to House.

"Later,” she said softly. Again no response. She left the room without looking back. Wilson stood alone by House's bed side.

“That 'get out' was meant for you, too,” House said as he stared off away from his friend. Wilson acknowledged the command.

“I know. I'm leaving. I'm going to order clear liquids for you, maybe by tomorrow we can get you on solid foods.” House continued to ignore Wilson. “Perhaps in a week we can get you out of here and resting at home.” No response. “I'll go write the orders.”

“Good God, you're my doctor? No wonder you kept me knocked out for so long. You knew if I could talk, I'd run circles around you. Make people wonder which village was missing their idiot.” Wilson smiled.

“Glad to see you're still you, House." He started to walk out of the room.

“Wilson?”

“Yeah?”

“I've got a lot to talk about.” Wilson nodded his head.

“Yeah, I know.”


	2. "Foundation"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> House has left the hospital, and is beginning to settle in back at his apartment. Wilson, tagging along to keep an eye on his friend, has some words of wisdom to help House move forward.

“Out of the Ashes”

Chapter Two – “Foundation”

By: purpleu

 

House fiddled uneasily with the straps holding him in the wheelchair, and pulled his monster truck hat further down on his head. He could deal with any kind of transportation with wheels, except when it was being driven by Wilson.

“Good luck, Dr. House.”

“Feel better. See you at five for cocktails.”

“Did you have to put me in the room furthest away from the elevators? Greeting my legions of adoring fans is more than I can handle right now.” He turned and looked at Wilson over his shoulder. “The stress is no good for me. My doctor says so.”

“You've only had two people say anything to you. One was the winner of the floor's betting pool; the only person who said you would make it. The other is a ninety year old woman who thinks she's on a cruise.”

“I think the Titanic could get me out of here faster than you are.”

“Just relax and enjoy the ride.” They arrived at the elevators and Wilson pushed the down button. “Are you going to be OK with this?” he asked, motioning toward the elevator.

“I'm not paranoid. I had an entire building fall on me, not just one part that was out to get me. Besides, it's preferable to walking down the stairs at this point.” The doors opened and Wilson pushed the wheelchair inside. When they arrived at the lobby, House said, “Get me out of here as fast as you can. The last thing I need is… ”

“Hey, look who's making a break for it.”

“Them.” House looked to his right to see his team walking toward them. “Next time remind me how bad you are at cloak and dagger.” He turned to his team. “Well, I hate to avoid the sword of Damocles and run, but I have a date with my DVR. The Discovery channel is running a series on the sex lives of reptiles and I've already missed the one on the Komodo dragon. Don't want to fall any further behind.” Foreman rolled his eyes as Chase, Taub and Thirteen smiled.

“We don't want to hold up your escape,” said Thirteen. “But we wanted to give you this.” Chase pulled a long, white box from behind his back and placed it in House's lap. He squirmed uncomfortably. The box was adorned with a large red bow and resembled something one would see on Valentine's Day.

“Did I ever mention that I'm allergic to flowers? All flowers? Seriously, I'm not carrying a spare Epi-Pen, so this really isn't a good idea.” He tried to hand the box back.

“They're not flowers,” said Taub. “We think it's something you'll find a little more useful.”

“Aw, now you went and spoiled the surprise,” House said sarcastically. “If it's something useful, it's not anything I'll enjoy.” He once again offered the box back.

“House, just open it,” Foreman said impatiently. House grimaced as he pulled the bow off the box.

“Really, I hope you save the receipt,” he said. “Because I don't plan on liking... ” House took off the lid, pushed aside the tissue paper, and stared at the contents of the box. It was a cane. He lifted it out ang surveyed the design painted on the shaft.

“Piano keys,” said House quietly.

“It has 88 on there, just like the real thing and a little something extra on the handle,” Wilson pointed out. House looked and saw a G-clef.

“We knew you lost one of your canes at the collapse, but couldn't figure out which one, so we thought that something different would be the best,” Thirteen explained. House looked down at the floor.

“You deal with medical quandaries where people's lives are hanging in the balance and you couldn't figure out which one I lost?” He looked up at each one pf his team members in turn. They looked at each other in chagrin.

“House, for once could you be nice?” admonished Wilson. “Or is that still asking too much from you?” House looked at Wilson and gave him the death stare. But even he had to admit Wilson was right; it was a very thoughtful gift and certainly one he could use at the moment.

“Thank you. I'm sure this will come in very handy.” House reached down and undid the buckle on the seatbelt of the wheelchair. “As a matter of fact, I think I'll test it out right now.” He pushed himself upright; his legs were shaky and his stance a bit unsure. Everyone reached out to steady him, but he waved them all away.

“House, don't be an idiot. Let me use the wheelchair to take you out to the car,” Wilson said as his friend teetered in front of him.

“Nah, I'll make it home much faster this way than with that thing,” House said gesturing toward the wheelchair. He walked gingerly toward the door. “See, I'm literally a walking, talking ad for the curative powers of Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital.” He took a few more steps, waivered and promptly crashed into the large potted palm next to the door. Quickly regaining his composure, House looked out from under the brim of his cap at Wilson.

“Bring the chair.” Wilson wheeled over toward House and held the chair steady while he got in. Waving good-bye to the team, he took House out to the car.

As Wilson drove to House's apartment building, House took comfort in the fact that he was remembering certain things; the route from the hospital to his apartment, the stores and businesses in the area, and how much he despised Wilson's nagging him.

“I'm serious, House. I want you to promise me that you will not try to venture out anywhere on your own. The only reason I'm letting you stay here by yourself is that I am way too busy to try and babysit you.”

“Yeah, I guess being the co-interim dean of medicine is just so exhausting. Imagine how poor, pathetic Foreman must feel. He's probably pulling his hair out. Oh, wait… he doesn't have any.” Wilson sighed.

“Neither one of us wanted this; it gives us no pleasure. The board thought this was the best thing to do. They've just started the search for a new dean; so unfortunately, I'll be in this position for a while. Both Foreman and I would rather be dealing with patients full time than paperwork. You know that.”

“They could have asked me,” House said in a sing-song voice.

“You were in a coma. Besides, you lack certain skills, like diplomacy.”

“I can be diplomatic, under penalty of death.”

“House, you think diplomacy is the art of saying ‘nice doggie’ while you find a rock. The fact is, I know you have a problem with this setup. All I'm saying is so do I.”

“I have no problem with it. In fact, I'm looking forward to going back to work. Steamrolling over the two of you when I need to ask ‘permission’ to do the right thing will just be part of my recuperation therapy.” Wilson shot him quick look. “The dynamics of the relationship are already there. Foreman's job is to make sure you don't say yes all the time and your job is to make sure he doesn't say no all the time. The roles are clearly set.” As much as Wilson hated to admit it, he knew House was right. In a short while, he pulled up to the curb at House's apartment. House surveyed the scene; smacking him in the face was the fact that his motorcycle was nowhere to be seen. He had not yet asked about the bike; he just assumed it went missing at the building collapse. He couldn't remember for sure.

“Well, thanks for the ride,” said House as he opened the car door. “I'd invite you in for tea and crumpets, but I'm afraid Mother Hubbard's cupboard is bare; toodles.” Wilson got out of the car, and opened the back driver’s side door. He retrieved a bag labeled “Patient's Belongings” and a duffle bag.

“Aren't you forgetting something, House?” Wilson held up a set of keys. “I possess the keys to the kingdom.” House let out a defeated sigh and moved aside to let Wilson open the door. He felt uncomfortable as soon as he stepped inside. Images flashed in his head; the green card wedding, the Vicodin hidden in the wall, the bloody bathroom, Cuddy in his arms after nookie. He wished at least one part of it was true; the Vicodin. It had been a long time since he felt the urge for it. Of all the strange and twisted visions that poured through his mind while sedated, that one held a certain appeal to him right now. Wilson had only allowed him small amounts of codeine since coming out of the coma and now he was even off that. Somehow he didn't think ibuprofen was going to be enough to wipe out his haunted feelings.

“Are you OK?” Wilson asked. House nodded in reply.

“I need something to drink.”

“Sure,” said Wilson putting down the bags. “How about a cup of coffee?” He walked to the kitchen and picked the kettle up off the stove.

“Single malt whiskey was more what I had in mind.” Wilson shook his head.

“Not yet. Just give it a rest for a bit. You are probably more detoxified right now than when you got out of Mayfield.”

“Yeah and I feel like crap.” Wilson continued preparing the coffee as House walked from room to room surveying each one to see what scenes would jump into his head. The sooner he confronted them, the better. Sitting on the bathroom floor holding Vicodin. Too many to count for the bedroom. Shattering the champagne bottle in the living room. Wilson getting stuck climbing in through the kitchen window. At that last thought, House managed a slight smile. Wilson glanced at him as he got the coffee mugs out.

“You're thinking about me in the window,” said Wilson. House nodded. “How long did you leave me there?”

“A minute or two. It was pulling you in lying on the rolling cart that was the most amusing. That and proving you wrong when you thought I started taking Vicodin again.”

“Yes, you would take a certain perverse pleasure in pointing out my mistake.” He picked up the two cups and carried them to the coffee table by the couch. “Want anything to eat?”

“I told you the cupboard is bare. I'm going to have to throw most of that stuff out.”

“No, you're not,” said Wilson. He walked back into the kitchen with House following him. Wilson opened the refrigerator to reveal that it was fully stocked with milk, juice, eggs and all sorts of fresh meats, fruits and vegetables. He swung the freezer door open; it was filled with meals from the local caterer/deli. “You have bread, coffee, sugar, potato chips, soda… all the things you'll need to survive for a while. Foreman, Chase, Taub, Thirteen and I cleaned out everything in the kitchen. I had a maid service come in and do a complete cleaning. You don't have to worry about your laundry either.” House stood there dumbfounded, staring at Wilson blankly. He slowly walked back into the living room, and sat down on the couch, taking a minute to absorb what he had seen.

“Thanks.” Wilson sat down next to his friend.

“The apartment needed a fresh start.” He looked at House. “So do you.”

“No, what I need is to get back to my old routine. I want to go back to work Monday.” Wilson shook his head.

“You need more time. You'll wind up keeling over at work or worse, making a wrong decision about the treatment of a patient.”

“As much as I loathe saying this, that's what I have a team for. If I do anything stupid as far as a patient goes, they'll enjoy pointing it out to me. If I do anything stupid personally, I'll enjoy freaking them out.” Wilson looked at him skeptically. He placed his elbows on his knees, interlaced his fingers, and rested his chin on his hands. He knew arguing with House was pointless, and that he would be doing enough of that at work in the coming days.

“OK. I'll authorize you for 28 hours a week; that will give you time to get back into the swing of things.”

“Great, with 12 hours of overtime, I'll be all set.” Wilson looked at House through narrowed eyes.

“Thirty hours.”

"Thirty-eight."

“Thirty-two.”

“Thirty-five with five hours of overtime. That's my final offer before I issue a thumb war challenge.” House extended his forearm, his hand in the proper position for engaging in battle. Wilson rolled his eyes.

“Fine. Forty hours. But if you can't handle it, don't come crying to me.”

“When would I ever do that?” asked House innocently. “Besides, you know you missed me.” Wilson silently had to admit that he did.

“I'll submit the paperwork tomorrow when I get into work.” Wilson took a sip of his coffee and sat staring into the cup. He cleared his throat before speaking. “You haven't asked about your motorcycle yet.” House considered the statement for a moment.

“My guess is that some son-of-a-bitch is enjoying their new toy. My only consolation is that the gas tank was almost empty.” Wilson was silent. House regarded him carefully, waiting for a reply.

“I have your bike.” House straightened up in his seat. “After you were taken away in the ambulance, Cuddy noticed the bike was there. She asked one of the firemen to take care of it; he showed up at the hospital about a week after the collapse. Someone directed him to me and I have it. I rented a small storage facility to keep it in until things had calmed down.”

“See, I was right. You've been cruising around the town on it.” Wilson raised his eyebrows.

“Could you really see me on a motorcycle?”

“I saw you in a go-kart.” House slumped down into his seat and stared at the coffee table. ‘How screwed up am I that I came up with those stories? I'm an ass, but I do have some limits to the depth of my depravity, despite what most people think.”

“I think what happened is a lot of the things you’ve kept pent up inside for so long finally came out. Now at least you can confront some of these issues, just like Dr. Nolan was trying to get you to do at Mayfield.” House leaned forward, his hand clenched in a fist. He spoke at a normal volume, but his tone was angry.

“Nolan's not a shrink. He's a skull puncher.” House looked at Wilson to see if he agreed. He didn't look at House as he began to speak.

“Dr. Nolan was wrong about some things. I have been too,” said Wilson. “At various times, I've encouraged you to try and form a relationship, a romantic one, with Cuddy. I never should have done that. I've thought a lot about all the scenarios that came out of your head and I've come to the conclusion that Cuddy was incapable of having a real relationship with anyone.” House looked shocked.

“Yeah, well… she was about to marry Lucas.”

“And that would have ended badly, too,” Wilson continued. “In all the time I've worked with her, she has never had a lasting romantic relationship or even a lasting friendship.”

“You and I… ” began House.

“We worked with her,” said Wilson cutting him off. “We knew what she was; we didn't know who she was.” House was agitated.

“No, after 20 years or so, I knew how to push her buttons.”

“But that's just it. You knew how to rankle her; you didn't know her.” He stopped for a moment. “Diamonds or pearls?” House looked both confused and annoyed.

“What?”

“Diamonds or pearls. Which does she prefer?” House shrugged his shoulders. “Mountains or the beach? Who was her best friend in fifth grade? Who did she vote for in the last election? Did she even vote? How does she feel about off shore oil drilling? What's her favorite color? If she could talk right now, would she want to pull the plug or would she want to fight her injuries, no matter how disabled they would leave her… all for her daughter's sake?”

“How the hell should I know?” said House, uncomfortable at the questions.

“Don't you think after twenty years, if you really knew her, you would?” Wilson leaned back against the sofa. “She is an enigma. And she is the one mystery you've never been able to solve and that bothers you down to your core.” House looked away from Wilson and closed his eyes. “House, I'm not saying either one of us don't care about Cuddy. If for no other reason than the amount of time we've worked with her. But you can't try and love someone you don't even know.” House didn't answer. He sat silently, absorbing Wilson's words. The last question asked was the most important of all and House had to admit he didn't know the answer. “You were enamored with the idea of Cuddy, not Cuddy herself. You made her into what you thought she would be like when you interacted with her in your visions. But even then she was loving and understanding in one scene and a shrew in others. You couldn't draw an accurate image of her there, because she was unknowable here in the real world.”

“So what you're saying is that for all these years, I've been a freaking idiot.” House opened his eyes and glared at Wilson. “Thanks.”

“No, that's not what I'm saying,” Wilson said as he rubbed his face with his hands. “Let's face it, Cuddy was a flirt. So are you. I've been meaning to ask you for some pointers for years.” House shook his head.

“You have no trouble getting a woman; you have trouble getting one to stick around.” House looked over at Wilson and saw the sad expression he had. “Sorry, I didn't mean that.”

“Yes you did. And you're right.” He continued. “You flirted, you joked, you busted chops, you talked. But that talk never led to any meaningful revelations.” Wilson took a sip of his coffee. “House I'm telling you this because I don't want to see you waste the rest of your life mourning something that never was. You're at times an ass, a jerk, cruel, unreasonable and other assorted negative personality traits.” He drew in his breath. “But I have also seen you do things that are sweet and thoughtful and kind… ” House interrupted him.

“Name one.” Wilson slowly nodded his head.

“OK, letting me move in here when I had nowhere else to go.”

“I had no choice. The neighbors were complaining about the whimpering in the hall.” House looked at Wilson out of the corner of his eye. “Logically, I know what you're saying is true, but it's going to take some time for me to work on this.” Wilson nodded as he rose from the couch, picked up his cup, and went to the kitchen.

“I can't expect miracles from a man who doesn't believe in them.”

“I'm getting hungry,” said House as he left the couch and headed toward the kitchen. “How about some Chinese?”

“With all the food you have here? Why should we do that?”

“Because I feel like Chinese. Besides… we won't have to keep an eye on the change this time.” Both he and Wilson smiled. House moved through the living room to the hallway, pausing by the couch. “Wilson?”

“Yeah?”

“I'd feel a lot better with some company tonight.” Wilson entered the living room, walked to the duffle bag he had placed on the floor, and picked it up.

“I already packed a change of clothes.” House gave a quick nod and started down the hall.

“Oh, and I want my bike back. It's been the hands of a poser long enough.” Wilson shook his head and returned to the kitchen. House made it to his bedroom door, turned around, and reentered the living room. He walked to one of the bookshelves and began to peruse the titles. Wilson came out of the kitchen.

“What are you looking for?”

“A good bedtime story.” House reached up and took a book off the shelf. “Conan Doyle, ‘A Scandal in Bohemia.’ Something to glean some perspective from.” Wilson looked at him quizzically. “I'll explain it over an egg roll.”


	3. "Rising Up to the Sky"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> House returns to work and meets with his team to learn the details of his newest patient's case; she's a woman with so many medical problems, no one's quite sure which issue to address first. Despite Wilson's concerns. House is doing well... until Lydia walks in.

“Out of the Ashes”

Chapter Three – “Rising Up to the Sky”

By: purpleu

 

 

Thirteen sat at the table in the conference room, paging through a patient's medical history for the fourth or fifth time. Chase and Taub were playing some sort of manly game on their i-phones as evidenced by their random grunts and occasional hand smacks on the table; clearly machismo was in full bloom. The only other sound in the room was Foreman's irritated sighs, the result of being made to wait for House's arrival.

“Does anyone know when House is coming in?” asked Thirteen. “This poor woman is miserable right now and instead of helping her, we're sitting here wasting time.” No answer. “Have any of you even looked at this?” She held up the patient's file.

“First of all, I am not wasting time,” said Taub “I've actually made it to stage 7 of 'Death Star Ranger.’ And yes, I looked at the file.”

“Stage 7?” asked Chase, “I can't get past stage 5.”

“Are you using the viper head sword when he gets trapped in the ice cave or the XD 7 particle gun?”

“The gun, of course,” answered Chase. Thirteen looked back and forth between the two men, incredulous at their lack of attention to the patient.

“I don't believe you two! We have a case to deal with and all you can do is have a teen-aged testosterone war?”

“Why are you so hung up on this patient?” asked Foreman. “And what makes you think House will care about the case?”

“I probably won't care. Unless a pair of tickets to next month's Mega Double-Dare Monster Truck Rally is the prize for making the boo-boo go away.” And with that, House dropped his backpack on the floor, sat down at the head of the table, and returned to work. He pointed to the folder Thirteen was holding. “So, who's come crawling to us for help this time?”

“Female, 50 years old, extensive medical history. Presenting with severe pain in her head and face on the right side only. Stops midline on the nose, cheek, and forehead. No earache or hearing loss. Mouth ulcerations which haven't allowed her to eat properly. Says chewing and swallowing are agony. She's lost 57 pounds in seven weeks.”

“You know, with the right marketing campaign, she could make millions in the diet and weight loss industry,” said House. “Of course, you'd have to leave out all the stuff about being deathly ill.”

“Why has she waited seven weeks to get help?” Foreman asked.

“Clearly some mean old doctor didn't let her eat the ice cream off the stick when she was a child,” remarked House. “And what are you doing here? I thought you'd be administering to the needs of the hospital, not the needs of one of its patients.”

“Wilson and I were in the ER when the patient came in. He suggested I follow the case.”

“So it's your turn to play super nanny. I have to warn you, I don't respond well to time outs.”

“Can we get back to the patient? It seems she sees lots of doctors on a regular basis,” said Thirteen. “She is a type one diabetic for almost forty years, has both psoriatic and rheumatoid arthritis, and cardiac issues galore: enlarged heart, CHF, MI, cardiac arrest, quadruple bypass five years ago… ”

“Don't forget Fibromyalgia,” chimed in Taub.

“And a history of sinusitis,” added Chase.

“See,” said Taub, “We both read the chart.”

“Yes, but did you understand it?” asked House.

“This just seems like a severe sinus infection. Maybe she has a low threshold for pain,” said Foreman.

“No,” said Thirteen firmly. “There's something else going on. She needs more than a nasal spray or some pills from a drug store.”

“Foreman's right,” Taub said. “You do seem to have an extra interest in this case.” Thirteen looked around the table.

“When I was a kid, my neighbor was a diabetic from the time he was 5, which was in the 1950's. He never took very good care of himself; he used to stop on the way home from dialysis to get an ice cream soda.” She looked down at the table. “Eventually they wound up amputating one part of him at a time until he just gave up and died. He helped me through a lot of what I was going through with my mother; let me talk and get things out. This patient… just reminds me of him a lot.” Chase, Foreman and Taub nodded.

“Wow,” said House, “You know, if you haven't missed the publishing deadline, you really should send that story to the ‘Why I Care’ column of the AMA's journal. It would make a hot read.” Thirteen shot him a look.

“You asked,” she said.

“No, they asked. I don't want to know about any personal cheap thrill you're getting from the case,” House admonished. “OK, let's start with the basics: complete medical history from the time she was a tadpole in her mommy's tummy to today, list of current meds, list of everything the doctors she's been seeing have given her so we know what doesn't work, complete lab work up and a CAT scan with contrast of her sinuses, no MRI.”

“Why not?” asked Foreman.

“Well, if you insist on exploding the defibrillator in her chest, go right ahead, but somehow I think the patient might raise some objections.”

“How do you know she has a defibrillator?” Taub questioned.

“The same way I know she has extreme edema in her right cheek and right side of her nose, her right eye is tearing profusely and is almost swollen shut. And for an eye she's blind in, which none of you mentioned, she has severe photophobia.”

“She's blind in her right eye?” questioned Thirteen, “That's not in her file the husband brought us.”

“Right. The file is probably both inaccurate and incomplete, not to mention any test results are at least five weeks old. When the other doctors couldn't find anything, they stopped looking.”

“How do you know all of this?” Chase asked.

“When I was walking through the lobby, I was ambushed by the patient's husband. It seems someone,” House said as he turned and looked accusingly at Foreman. “Pointed me out to him. Plausible deniability was chucked out the window. You two,” he said motioning with his cane to Taub and Chase. ”Go to the patient's house and look for the usual suspects. Courageous Cat and Minute Mouse,” he said indicating Thirteen and Foreman. “Can get the history and run the tests.”

“Actually, Wilson just paged me. He needs me to give him a hand with something.” House gave him a look.

“It really turns you on to talk dirty like that, doesn't it?” he asked sarcastically.

“I can do the history and tests,” said Thirteen, not giving Foreman a chance to respond. “Of course you could always give me a hand,” she said looking at House.

“‘Fraid not. I've already reached my patient contact quota for the month.” Thirteen shook her head as she stood up. House also rose and started to walk into his office, then turned around and said, “Find out if she's allergic to morphine; if not, start her on a drip to relieve the pain. If she is allergic, start her on one of the other drugs I wish I was on. And make sure you interview the husband and wife separately.”

“Why separately?” asked Taub. House rolled his eyes up to the ceiling.

“Really? After all this time, I still have to spell it out for you? OK. E-V-E-R-Y-O-N-E-L-I-E-S.” With that, House left his office to get something to eat. While not his usual choice, he took the stairs down as he already had encountered too many staff members commenting on his return to work. The next one that asked if it was too soon was going to get a can of alum poured down their throat. House was pleased with himself for making it as far as he did, when suddenly, he stopped and listened. It was a piano; unfortunately, it sounded like it was being played by someone's elbow rather than their hands. He followed the sound to the hospital chapel. Looking inside, he saw two men moving the piano at the front of the room.

“Hey, what are you doing?” House asked. The men looked up at him, startled.

“We're putting the piano back. The carpets in here were cleaned and it had to be moved.” The worker who spoke eyed him suspiciously. “Who are you? You work here?” House walked toward the piano and set his new piano cane down on the top.

“Nope. I'm from Local 1812. Piano inspector's union,” said House as he gestured to the cane. “I have to make sure it wasn't knocked out of tune during any of its travels.”

“It went from one side of the room to the other,” said the second workman. House sat down at the keyboard.

“Silence!” he commanded. “I need quiet to do my work.” He stretched his arms out, placed his hands on the keys and started playing "Chopsticks". The two workers shook their heads and left the chapel. When he was sure they were gone, House stopped playing and looked down at the keys. It had been a long time since he played just for the hell of it. Come to think of it, said House to himself. I didn't even imagine playing while in the coma. He placed his hands back on the keys. Starting off with Bach, House moved on to Gershwin and then some Dr. John. His fingers glided effortlessly over the keyboard; music always had a calming effect on him and now it was particularly soothing to be returning to an old friend. He had just finished the song, when he paused and smiled.

“Hello, Greg.” Shock was the first emotion that came in waves over House; his pulse and breathing quickened. He knew the voice, but didn't know how he could be hearing it here. If he was still in the coma, he could understand retrieving that voice from deep within him; but he was very much living in real time. He took a breath as he removed his hands from the keyboard.

“Hello, Lydia.” He turned and looked at the entrance to the chapel. He was right… it was her. Standing in the doorway was the person who helped him get through so much at Mayfield. She accepted his flaws and embraced his talents and always judged him gently. House wanted to go to her and take her in his arms as he had once before, but he resisted the urge. He didn't know why she was here and was in no position to assume anything. She was after all, married; but just as beautiful as ever to him. “How did you know where to find me?” House asked moving up the aisle toward her.

"You told me the name of the hospital where you worked when you were at Mayfield,” she replied. “As far as how I found you within the building, I parked in the lot on this side,” she said pointing to the open chapel windows. “I heard the music outside and I knew it could only be you playing.” House did his best to hide the smile he felt at her compliment.

“What led you to that conclusion?” She shrugged.

"The person playing was too heavy on the right foot," Lydia said, using the same criticism that House directed at her back at Mayfield.

“Not me; you must be thinking of some other person who doesn't play as well as me,” House said pretending to be insulted. Lydia moved toward him and gave him a kiss on the cheek. That one gesture stirred feelings that House thought he had buried forever. His eyes met hers and he did his best to hide what he was thinking. "The recent reports of cockroach sightings in the cafeteria have been attributed to the rats spreading nasty rumors. I was going there for a bite to eat. Care to join me?" he asked. Lydia nodded and they started down the hall. She looked down toward his feet as they made their way to the cafeteria.

“I like your cane.”

“It has a really long story behind it.”

“Good. You can tell me while we break bread with the local vermin.” House cleared his throat and tried to sound casual as he spoke.

“So, you get tired of cacti providing the only shade out in Arizona? Coyotes make off with one too many of your kittens? Or is domesticating prairie dogs not all you thought it would be?” Lydia laughed.

“None of the above. Annie is returning to the Philadelphia Philharmonic in a few weeks. One of their cellists is retiring and the conductor she played under contacted her and asked if she would be interested in coming back. I told her I wanted to be there to watch her return to the stage. So, here I am.” They arrived at the cafeteria and House reached for the door.

“The dutiful sister-in-law has come to play cheerleader. How sweet,” he said as he opened the door and stepped back to let Lydia in. She took a step forward, then paused in the doorway. She turned to look at House.

“Ex-sister-in-law,” she corrected. She looked away and continued inside. At that moment, Wilson appeared behind House at the doorway, intending to step inside.

“House, are you OK?” he asked. House was staring at Lydia in disbelief, not even acknowledging Wilson's presence. Wilson followed House's gaze.

“House?” he questioned.

“Later,” said House. He walked away from Wilson and over to where Lydia was standing.

“Ex?” questioned House. Lydia took a deep breath.

“My life has been a crazy, complicated mess. I had told you that Ben had stopped paying attention to Annie; he showed her no love or concern. But she’s his sister! You’d think he’d have felt something! After we got out to Phoenix and she was living with us, he even said he wished she was still in Mayfield!” She paused for a moment to compose herself. “I never had a real marriage; I was just stupidly hoping that as I talked to Annie about being married to her brother, that it would jolt her out of her catatonic state. The more I looked at things, I realized that I didn’t have a family to hold on to… Ben became more and more … ” Lydia struggled to find the words.

“Abusive?” House offered.

“Yes… more verbally than physically, but he was directing it more and more toward the children. Then, thanks to you, Annie woke up,” Lydia said her eyes tearing up. “I had my best friend back. And while it was always our plan to move to Arizona if she ever got better, I knew deep down it was a mistake to go, especially after you came to my door that night.” The two of them had walked over to a table and sat down as Lydia had been speaking; she now removed several napkins from the holder on the table to wipe her eyes.

“So unlike the mythical bird, Phoenix wasn’t a re-birth of all things good for you,” House noted.

“No, not at all. I had Annie, of course, which meant the world to me; but she was in therapy for so many hours a day, and had a hard time getting reacquainted with the world. I took some classes at the local community college to keep busy; they couldn’t help me finish my original degree, but I did get certified as a teaching assistant with an emphasis in music education. I had very few friends I could socialize with, just some people I met at the college; acquaintances, really. My ex had all these people he knew from his travels out to the company’s Phoenix office; men and… women.” She looked at House; he knew what she was inferring and nodded. “Annie got the call and decided to come back here, right after a horrible incident with Ben; his temper just exploded. It was then I knew that I had to leave and filed for divorce right away. I wasn’t going to let her take this on by herself, and at least I had some friends back here. In the time it took Annie to get ready, and move, my divorce was finalized. The only issue is custody of the children, which shouldn’t be an issue since he says he never wanted them.” House didn’t know how to react to what he was hearing; there was so much he wanted to ask her, he wasn’t sure what to say.

“Lydia… ” he began. At that moment, his phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket and glared at it. “This better not be a potty break request,” he muttered as he answered the call. “So, has her head exploded yet? Has she lost another ten pounds in the past hour? Or is she spewing pea soup all over the place?” House asked he looked at Lydia and saw she was laughing as he spoke.

“Tachycardia, pulse rate 142,” said Thirteen. “We're giving her Flecainide, pulse is down to 96. She can barely talk, but she said that the pain became unbearable, and that's when her heart went haywire.”

“Give her Dilaudid; see if we can get the pain under control for now. Have you gotten the labs back yet?”

“Yes, and we just finished the CAT scan.” House's eyes darted about as he thought.

“Did the pain become worse when you moved her?”

“Yeah; on her right side, she's in agony, on her left side, she gets some relief.”

“Well, I hope you have her on her left side at the moment.” He heard Thirteen let out a sigh.

“Of course.”

“Be there in a minute.” House ended the phone and stared at it for a moment. He was deep in thought, concentrating on the patient's latest turn of events, when he became aware of Lydia standing up. He looked at her, and didn't know what to do. He wanted to sit down and listen to all that had happened to her and tell her what his life had been like since they parted company, but he knew he couldn't do that; he had a mystery to solve, a patient to save.

“I should go,” said Lydia. “I didn't mean to intrude on your work.”

“You're not. I…I want to talk. I can't right now.” She smiled and nodded. Reaching inside her pocketbook, she took out a small pad and a pen and started to write.

“Here is my number. When you're ready, give me a call.” She ripped the piece of paper from the pad and handed it to him. House took it, folded it and put it in his jacket pocket as he rose from his chair.

“I’ll be pretend to be what passes for a gentleman and walk you out,” he said as they left the cafeteria.

“Isn't your patient upstairs?” asked Lydia as she pointed to the set of elevators at the back of the lobby.

“Yeah, but those aren't the right elevators. They’ll take me in the wrong direction.” She stopped, folded her arms and looked at him disapprovingly. “This is what I have a team for. To take care of things until I can get my cape and tights on.” The two continued toward the front doors; they paused for a moment just past the reception desk, and stood in an awkward silence. It seemed neither one wanted to initiate the good-bye. Finally Lydia spoke.

“Well, I'd better let you find a phone booth so you can change.” House reached out and took her hand in his.

“You came looking for me. Why?” Lydia smiled and shook her head.

“Always questioning things; why did I look for you? Back at Mayfield, why did I kiss you?” House closed his eyes at the memory of the kiss. He opened his eyes and looked at her as she took a step closer to him. “We are going to talk; we will discuss it then. Now, go play doctor.” She leaned into him, gave him a kiss on the lips, turned and walked out the door. House stood and watched her for as long as she was in sight. When she was gone, he turned, and quickly walked toward the elevators. He had a patient that needed him.


	4. "Observation Deck"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a confrontation with the patient's rather difficult husband, House and the team gather in the conference room to DDX with the patient's test results, medical history, and the findings from an inspection of her home. When all the talk leads to nothing concrete, in a rare move, House decides to talk to the patient himself. While on the way to do that, however, Wilson corners House, and demands to know all the details about Lydia.

“Out of the Ashes”

Chapter Four – “Observation Deck”

By: purpleu

 

The elevator doors opened and House moved quickly toward the patient's room in the ICU. It wasn't hard to find; it was the one that had Kyle James, the patient's husband standing outside of it with Thirteen, demanding to know what had happened.

“I leave to get my son from his job and when I come back, I'm told my wife had a heart attack while you were performing tests? Why weren't you keeping an eye on what your staff was doing?" he said addressing House as he joined the two.

“I'm sorry. My potty break coincided with your wife's not-a-heart-attack-event. You know how it is; when you gotta go, you gotta go.”

“Mr. James, as I was about to explain to you, your wife didn't have a heart attack,” said Thirteen trying to restore some semblance of professionalism to the situation. “She experienced tachycardia, which is a rapid pulse rate… ”

“I know what tachycardia is,” James said cutting her off. “I've been dealing with Bonnie's heart problems for five years now and her health problems in general for twenty-four. I know a bit about medical issues: I'm not stupid.”

“Do you have unbiased proof of that?” asked House. Thirteen was exasperated and about to say something when Taub and Chase approached.

“Thank you, Mr. James,” said Chase handing him a set of keys. “It's usually much harder for us to do an inspection of a patient's house.”

“How so?” asked James.

“Well, to get in, first we have to use a credit card on the front door lock,” began House. “It has to be major card; department store and gas cards aren't accepted. Then we… ”

“Mr. James, we really need to go over test results and come up with some ideas on how to help your wife. Why don't you and your son visit with her for a while and if we need to speak to you, we'll know where to find you,” said Thirteen directing him toward the door of his wife's room. Thirteen looked around. “Where is your son?” she asked.

“He's sixteen and a human garbage pail. I sent him to the cafeteria to get something to eat.” At the mention of the cafeteria, House's mind drifted back to Lydia. He put his hand in his pocket and fingered the slip of paper she had given him. Given his current state of mind, he wondered how he was going to focus on the case…

“House!” He turned to see Thirteen staring at him. “Are you OK?”

“Yeah.” He turned away, headed for the elevator, and then to his office. The team was right behind him, gathering in the conference room; Chase and Taub got coffee, Thirteen sat down and began going through the file of test results. House paced back and forth, twirling his cane. He walked over to the table where the other three were now seated and began slowly, deliberately circling around the table. He suddenly stopped, and slapped his cane down next to Taub's coffee mug.

“Why?” Startled, Taub, Chase and Thirteen looked at each other, puzzled. They looked at House, who had asked the question.

“Why, what?” asked Taub.

“Why did you wimp out and ask for the keys? That’s not protocol around here.”

“No, but since the husband was here with his wife, he would have no chance to go and hide anything.”

“Besides,” Chase said, “It's better than taking the chance of getting arrested.” House smirked.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you. You two and Foreman got arrested for breaking and entering while I was visiting my own little personal black hole. I let you guys just sit and rot in jail. It wasn't all bad; you made lots of new friends,” House said, rather pleased with the memory.

“What did you find at the house?” asked Thirteen, bringing the patient back into focus.

“Absolutely nothing out of the ordinary. The only pets are four guinea pigs that the son keeps in his room. The cage looked clean and the animals well cared for,” Taub said. “No other pets, no plants except for a few basic houseplants; an aloe, an African violet. Hardwood floors, no carpets hiding any allergens. No unusual cleaners or chemicals; nothing remarkable.” House sat down, his brow furrowed in thought. He heard the words, but paid no attention to who was saying them.

“We should check and see what kind of contact the patient has with the animals; she could have picked up something that way,” offered Thirteen. “She has a compromised immune system.”

“Diabetes and her cardiac issues put her at an especially high risk,” observed Chase.

“Right, but it's not just that; she's taking Methotrexate for her RA,” noted Thirteen.

“How does the rest of the laundry list read?” asked House. Thirteen took a deep breath.

“Lantus and NovoLog recently replaced the Humulin she took for years,” Thirteen began. “Aspirin, potassium, folic acid, ibuprofen, Plavix, Coreg, Digoxin, Lasix, Methotrexate, and Vicodin. She was on Lipitor and metolazone, but they later took her off them.”

“Why?” asked Chase. Thirteen gave a little laugh.

“She says she ran out of room in her pill case.” House smiled at the comment; sarcasm, right up his alley. He didn't talk much to the patient when her husband dragged him up to her room earlier; she was in too much pain. Her husband did most of the talking, which is where House formed his unfavorable opinion of him.

“I'm going to guess she got her cholesterol under control and her heart started working strongly enough to inhibit a reoccurrence of CHF,” commented House.

“That's another crazy thing about her background. She never had any problems with her lipid profile. She's been tested yearly for the past ten years; HDL, LDL, triglycerides-all in normal range. She never had a cholesterol test above 176,” said Thirteen. Taub was looking over a section of the file; he shook his head.

“It's amazing she's alive,” he said. “Angiogram prior to surgery showed two arteries 80% blocked and two 100%. Ancillary arteries formed to compensate. Her ejection fraction was only twenty-four; but she never spent a day in the hospital before her surgery.” Chase had taken the file as Taub was speaking. He let out a long whistle.

“She had trouble coming off the bypass machine. It took three tries before they got her heart started again. A lot of damage to the left ventricle, yet her ejection fraction six months after the operation was forty-seven.”

“Much closer to normal,” noted Taub.

“The really sad thing in all this, is that she was supposed to have the defibrillator put in a few days after the operation; but when she had trouble getting off the bypass machine, they decided to wait six months. At that point, as you saw, her EF came up and the insurance company wouldn't pay for it,” Thirteen said in disbelief. “Two and a half years later, she had cardiac arrest. They worked on her for fifteen minutes. They even called TOD and pulled a sheet over her. They only knew she still with them when she said ‘I'm not dead yet.’” House chuckled; the team turned to look at him.

“She's a Python fan,” he explained.

“How do you know she likes snakes?” asked Taub. House rolled his eyes.

“Monty Python!” he shouted, sounding annoyed. “Are you really completely devoid of any culture?” He turned to Thirteen. “How much Vicodin?” She took the files from Chase and paged through.

“Five milligrams. She's allowed up to four tabs a day, but says she can get by on only two prior to her current complaints.” House nodded his head.

“Amateur.” Thirteen glared at him and drummed her fingers on the table. House gestured for her to continue.

“Mr. James said she was doing well with her drug regimen until seven weeks ago, when everything hit the fan. She continued taking her meds in the usual doses, but obviously something has gone wrong.”

“Anything remarkable from her childhood?” Chase inquired.

“Just the usual stuff: measles, mumps, chicken pox. She became a diabetic when she was eleven. She had mono twice.”

“Twice?” questioned Chase.

“Once when she was twelve; the second time when she was in college. It seemed it was rampant on campus and she caught it.”

“Floozy,” House said under his breath.

“House!” Wilson was standing at the door to the conference room. Everyone in the room turned to look at him. “While I'm glad to see that you're holding up well in you return to work, does it have to include insulting the patient's husband?” he asked.

“Can I help it if the guy is overly sensitive?” Wilson folded his arms.

“It would help if you could temper your attitude a bit. Are you making any progress with the patient?” he asked.

“Well, except for coming back from the dead, so far it seems she's so boring and ordinary that she's extraordinary. She has half dozen or so major illnesses, but nothing's jumping up saying ‘pick me.’ Anything stand out in her labs?” House asked Thirteen. Foreman walked in as she began to go through the reports.

“Nothing; in fact, her diabetes is in excellent control. Her A1C was 6.8 and her cholesterol was 158. Of course she hasn't had much to eat in seven weeks. Her potassium and sodium are low, so we'll have to address that.”

“None of which points to why Mrs. James is having the kind of pain and edema she's experiencing,” said Foreman.

“Hold on,” said House. He started patting his pockets and then walked into his office and began opening drawers on his desk.

“House, what are you doing?” Wilson asked.

“I'm looking for something to give Foreman for his lips. He's going to need it after all the ass-kissing he did to shut the husband up.”

“I wouldn't have to do anything, if you had a more sympathetic attitude toward people,” admonished Foreman, “It would go a long way.”

“Again with this attitude thing,” House said as he walked back into the conference room. “I don't have an attitude. I have a personality that most people can't handle.”

“That's for sure,” Chase said as the others nodded in agreement.

“Anyone have something useful to offer on the differential?” House asked. Thirteen kept looking through the lab reports and shaking her head.

“None of this makes any sense. No elevation in white count, minimal fluid in the mastoid, no mastoiditis. Her sinuses cavities are small but basically clear. Again, a minimal amount of fluid present. Cultures of mucus and sputum are negative.”

“So clinical evidence suggests no cause for what the patient is experiencing,” said Chase.

“But clearly she is exhibiting severe symptoms of… ” Taub trailed off. He shrugged his shoulders as he was unable to suggest anything.

“Something,” finished House. He rapped his cane repeatedly on the floor. Everyone in the room was silent, as none of them could come up with an idea; they could all see House becoming more agitated. “What are we missing?” No one spoke. “That wasn't a rhetorical question,” said House, his voice getting louder.

“Maybe it's time you talked to the patient,” offered Wilson. “Observing her might give you the insight you need to figure things out. Besides, it would be the diplomatic thing to do.” House let out a disgusted sigh.

“Fine,” he said. “Give me a minute while I go collect some rocks.” The team gave Wilson puzzled looks as House left the room and made his way down the hall.

“We'll be back,” he said following House. Wilson caught up with House as he walked to the elevators. He could sense the tension in House by the look in his eyes and the quickness of his gait. Not wanting to add to the problem, Wilson thought things through carefully before speaking and decided he was damned no matter what he did. “So… who is she?”

“I don't know,” said House in an annoyed voice. “And I don't care who she is. I just want to know what's making her sick and make it go away. After that she can go to hell.” Wilson stopped walking and grabbed House's arm.

“House, I know it's bothering the hell out of you that you don't have an infinite number of ideas at your fingertips. But that's been true in many of your cases in the past. It's no reflection on your ability to handle the work at this point.”

“At this point,” House repeated. “What if it's an indication of the future?” He started to walk away, turned, and said, “What if I can't do this anymore? What if getting hit in the head took away what I need to do this job? Why do you think I wanted to get back here? I've got to see what I have left.” House shouted, a tone of desperation creeping onto his voice. Wilson looked down and walked over to him. He never heard House question his abilities with the intensity he was now.

“I told you when you came out of the coma; there was no brain damage at all. You're… frustrated; you want to go whizzing through things to prove that you're OK. You will be; just not yet. You still have too many things to work out.” House took a minute to consider Wilson's words; he finally nodded and continued to walk, with Wilson following. He still wanted to ask about the woman that was with House. He considered the possibility that she was one of the things on House's mind. He saw the way House looked when he was near her. This could be a mistake, thought Wilson, but here goes.

“House, who was the woman I saw you with earlier?” Wilson saw House visibly squirm.

“Someone looking for free medical advice. She assumed I was a doctor. Must be the cane.” House reached over and pressed the button for the elevator. Wilson shook his head.

“I'm not buying it. I saw the way you were behaving. I can't remember the last time you were reacting that way to a woman. Not with Cuddy for sure.” House shot him a look. Whirring sounds indicated the arrival of the elevator. They got in and House pressed the button marked ‘P.’

“Why are we going to the parking garage?” Wilson was clearly confused.

“Because, it's our own personal Bat Cave, boy wonder.” House looked up at the panel and made a face of disgust when he realized they were stopping at the lobby. As the doors opened, he began to cough violently. He looked at Wilson and said, “So I have no idea where I could have caught the typhoid from,” as he continued to cough. Wilson's eyes widened as he turned to the people waiting to enter and said,

“I think you may want to take the next one.” The door closed and House stopped coughing. “Congratulations; I don't think DeNiro could have done any better,” observed Wilson as he shook his head. House didn't answer. Wilson watched him closely as he stared off into space with his hand in his pocket. He had to find out what was bothering him. They stepped out of the elevator and Wilson let House take the lead. He walked down past a few support pillars, stopped and leaned against one. House looked at his watch.

“You have five minutes to do your worst. Then Dr. Killjoy, the patient's husband is going to send out a search party. I don't want to be found with you like this. There's already enough gossip.” Wilson put his hands on his hips and tried to find the words that would actually get House to talk. Blunt was best.

“Who is she?” House waited to answer. He really didn't want to talk to Wilson about Lydia. Not yet.

“I met her at rehab and no, she was not a patient. She was visiting someone there. We talked a couple of times… and now she's stalking me. I threatened to call the cops and she left. End of story.” House shrugged and gestured with wide open hands. Wilson slowly moved his head up and down and walked over to him.

“I think you may be sending mixed signals to your ‘stalker.’ One doesn't usually hold their hand and kiss them on the lips” House looked shocked.

“What makes you think I would do something like that?”

“Because I followed you from the cafeteria and saw you from the walkway above the lobby.” House narrowed his gaze as he looked at Wilson.

“I stand corrected; you're better at the cloak and dagger stuff than I gave you credit for.” Wilson reached up and rubbed his forehead.

“House, I don't want to pry into your personal life… ” House scoffed at Wilson’s statement.

“Are you kidding me? Prying into my personal life is full time hobby of yours; second only to the ongoing search for the next Mrs. James Wilson.”

“I'm worried about you,” said Wilson raising his voice. “You're letting the case get the better of you and you are still trying resolve things that happened at the collapse, including Cuddy. Now this woman shows up and you look… dazed, at the very least.” House looked around the garage not wanting to make direct eye contact with Wilson.

“I really did meet her at Mayfield,” he began quietly. “Her name is Lydia. I don't even know her last name. Her best friend was at the hospital.” He finally looked at Wilson. “We became friendly. Spent some time together. That's it.”

“Became friendly? Spent some time together? Is that secret code for something more?” Wilson asked looking at House closely.

“We made love,” House admitted “There I said it in plain English. Happy?” Wilson was taken aback.

“Oh, God… House, she's pregnant?” House turned and looked at him with abject amazement.

“No, she's not pregnant! Not unless she's had the longest gestational period of any human in history. In which case I'm switching specialties.” Wilson held up his hands.

“Okay, so I got the timeline wrong. Then why is she here?” Trying to act casually, House replied.

“She was just in the neighborhood and wanted to say hello. Wanted to catch up. I didn't have time to talk; Thirteen called me.” Wilson looked at his watch.

“Speaking of your team, someone's going to come looking for us. We'd better get upstairs.” They headed back to the elevators. Wilson reached out and pushed the button.

“You're going to have to come up with some really shiny rocks for me to be diplomatic with the husband. He thinks he's a walking Merck's manual,” House noted. Wilson nodded.

“He's had to deal with his wife's problems for a long time now. I think the stress of the situation is getting to him. What's your problem with him? A little sympathy might help.” House shook his head.

“People with a little knowledge are dangerous. In the case of medical knowledge, it can be deadly. I don't suffer those people gladly.” The elevator doors opened and both stepped inside. Wilson looked at House and studied him for a moment.

“She really got to you, didn't she?” he said. House made a face.

“What are you talking about?”

“Any time you refer to physical relations with a woman, you say 'having sex'; or you use a rude, inappropriate phrase.” House looked at him.

“So?”

“You said ‘we made love.’” Wilson gave a slight smile. “She got to you.” House didn't reply. “Do yourself a favor. Call her.”

“Her number's unlisted.” Wilson looked House over from head to toe.

“I think you'll find it on a piece of paper that I saw you put inside your left pocket. House, call her,” Wilson said firmly. House stepped out as the elevator doors opened on the ICU floor, then stopped. He looked concerned.

“Wilson… I think I got to her, too.” Wilson smiled.

“Call her.” House started to walk, hesitated and looked over his shoulder at his friend.

“I already did.”


	5. "Bird's Eye View"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After talking to the patient, and finding they have common ground, House is able to pinpoint the source of the patient's pain, but not the cause. Still being pestered by the patient's husband, House seeks some relief in a lunch date with Lydia.

“Out of the Ashes”

Chapter Five – “Bird's Eye View”

By: purpleu

 

 

Before House could make his way around the nurse's station and get to the patient's room, Wilson caught up to him and stopped him.

“Let me see your cell phone,” he demanded.

“What?” asked House.

“Let me see your phone,” Wilson repeated. “And the piece of paper in your pocket,”

“Isn't this a violation of my right to privacy?” asked House as he fished the phone and paper out of his pocket. “At the very least it negates Section 1, paragraph 9, clause 13 of our friendship contract.”

“If we had a friendship contract, I would have renegotiated the terms a long, long time ago,” Wilson said as his eyes darted back and forth between House's cell phone and the piece of paper Lydia gave him. “You did not call her. The last call you made was to someone named Bambi Forest.”

“I had an appointment with her for tonight and I needed to cancel it,” said House fidgeting. “Now come on, give me my phone and the paper.”

“Wait a second… you had scheduled a hooker for tonight and you cancelled because this woman showed up?”

“First of all, her name is Lydia; and second… give me credit for having some kind of class.” House reached over and grabbed the phone and paper out of Wilson's hands.

“You really don't want to mess this up,” Wilson said, amazed.

“Nope. Got any ideas on how I can avoid messing with that?” House nodded his head toward the outer hall of the patient's room. There stood Kyle James dressing down Foreman.

“You told me twenty minutes ago that Dr. House was going to be right here to see my wife and still no sign of him,” ranted James. “I don't like my wife being treated as if she doesn't matter. Or does she have so much wrong with her that you can't figure it out?” Thirteen, Taub and Chase stood to the side, deferring to Foreman to answer the question; but he was no better at it than they would have been.

“Dad, I told you, Dr. House and his team are the best,” said Donald James as he walked out of his mother's room. “I helped Mom research doctors and Dr. House and his team have an incredible reputation. You just have to let them do their job.”

“I like this kid," whispered House to Wilson as they walked over to the group in the hall. “And that's a rarity for me.” Suddenly, James turned and confronted House and Wilson.

“Well, look who decided to show up. I hope you have an explanation for ignoring my wife.” Wilson extended his hand toward Kyle

“Mr. James, I apologize for not having the chance to introduce myself earlier. I'm Dr. Wilson chief of oncology.”

“Oncology?” James said, stunned as he shook Wilson's hand. “Are you telling me my wife has cancer?”

“No… no,” said Wilson reassuringly. “Right now, I'm doing double duty as acting dean of medicine, as is Dr. Foreman.”

“Acting dean? Where's the regular one? Probably knew how screwed up this place was and ran away.” Wilson saw the change in expression on House's face and realized he was moving toward James. He stepped in front of House to block his way.

“She was severely injured in the crane collapse that happened a few months ago, as was Dr. House,” Wilson said quickly. “She, unfortunately, is too ill to return to work.” He glanced sideways at House, who stared at the floor silently. Here it comes, thought House; pity the crippled guy who got smacked in the head with a building.

“I'm sorry. I had no idea.” James took a breath. “I am just so desperate to get some help for my wife, I'm not thinking clearly. All the other doctors we've seen haven't been able to tell us anything. I don't even care what name you want to give it. Just help her… please. I can’t stand to see her suffer the way she is.”

“Mr. James, your concern is completely understandable. Please don't feel you need to apologize for anything,” reassured Wilson. No, he needs to apologize for everything, thought House. “But this morning, a patient of mine…a little five year old girl… reached a crisis. I needed to ask Dr. House for a consultation.” House slowly picked his head up and turned to look at Wilson with amazement in his eyes. He looked over at the team and saw the puzzlement on their faces. “Fortunately, he saw something we all missed. I'm so sorry that it delayed his coming to examine your wife, but I'm sure you understand.”

“Well…of course,” said James. “I didn't mean to… ”

“Just as Dr. Wilson missed something with his adorable little patient, so is it possible my team missed something when evaluating your wife,” House interrupted. Thirteen, Taub, Chase and Foreman all glared at him. “I'd like some time for a private consultation with them. Why don't you and your son go down to the cafeteria; get a hearty meal for him and a cup of decaffeinated coffee for yourself.” After a moment, James reluctantly nodded his head in agreement.

“Alright; let's go Don.” He turned to look into his wife's room, then walked toward the elevators with his son. House walked past the pair, and stood immediately outside the wife's room. He was staring, deep in thought. Wilson came and stood next to House.

“You really don't know where to go with this, do you?” asked Wilson. House shook his head.

“And neither does my usual back-up,” he said turning toward the team. “Anything? Even a far-fetched, screwed up guess would be OK.”

“Well, we did have an idea,” Taub said hesitantly, looking at Thirteen and Chase. “The son traveled to Pennsylvania for an international cross-country meet about three months ago. What if he picked up a viral infection from one of the competitors?”

“Has the son been sick?” asked Foreman.

“Just a cold about a week after returning from the tournament; but what if the son acted as a host and exhibited nothing more than the cold symptoms, and then passed the virus on to his mother who has a compromised immune system. It would explain why none of the antibiotics worked,” Taub concluded. House nodded. He looked at Chase and Thirteen.

“I take it from your silence Taub's ‘we’ is really a ‘he’. What gifts do you bring?”

“The guinea pigs.” said Chase. “Lymphocytic Choriomeningitis.” House regarded Chase with a certain amount of respect.

“Boy, you must have practiced saying that one all day,” he observed. “Isn't that specific to rodents?”

“Yes, but it has been transferred to humans in rare cases,” Thirteen said, “And again, the patient has a poor immune system working against her.” House nodded in agreement.

“But the patient says she doesn't clean the cage; only her son does. She just throws some hay into the feeder for them,” countered Taub. House tilted his head to the side, taking in what Taub said.

“Yeah, but one of the guinea pigs is new. It was purchased a little over two and half months ago from a local pet store which is where they usually contract the virus,” countered Chase.

“Except none of the guinea pigs have been sick,” replied Taub. House suddenly let out a shrill, sharp whistle.

“As much as I'm enjoying the DDX death match, we have a patient to take care of; or did you forget? We can check both theories out. Pull blood from both father and son just to cover all bases. Then go get some piggy poop and see what it grows. Check the rodents for that big long thingamabob Chase said before.”

“You want us to do a blood draw on guinea pigs?” asked Chase.

“Let's see if we can get the son to agree to that. He might be a little hesitant to let us do it,” Foreman pointed out. “After all, we're not veterinarians.”

“They won't remember who he is,” said House as he gestured at Chase. “They're too focused on me and my totally amazing awesomeness. Just introduce yourself as Dr. Doolittle.” Foreman shook his head.

“You know that won't work,” he said. House looked at him.

“Don't you have to go and be a bureaucrat somewhere right now?”

“It might be an idea,” said Wilson. “To go down to the cafeteria and keep things on an even keel with the father and son. We're hitting them up for blood samples from the two of them and the pets. Neither one may react well to the idea.”

“True,” Foreman said. “It might be reassuring to have a member of the hospital administration there to show we're concerned.” House rolled his eyes at the comment. He turned to Wilson.

“Why don't we make it doubly reassuring by having two members of the hospital administration show up?” he said sarcastically. He nodded in the direction of the team and mouthed the word 'go'. Wilson held up a hand.

“OK. I'm going. Call me later.” Giving House a look, he joined the team on the way to the elevators.

“Oh, by the way, don’t forget the really shiny rocks,” House called after him.

“You, too.” Wilson answered. The team looked at him dumbfounded. “I'll explain on the way down,” he said. House turned back to the patient's room. He was giving himself a minute to clear his head before going in. It wasn't the patient's fault he was preoccupied, but it would be his fault if the patient continued to suffer. He quietly entered the patient's room; Bonnie James couldn't see him because she was lying on her left side, facing away from the door. House picked up a chair, placed it by the side of the bed and sat down. Her eyes were closed and there was no movement; just a sound that could only be described as whimpering coming from Mrs. James. House looked up at her IV and saw potassium and sodium bags hanging; he assumed one of the team had ordered them as had been discussed. He saw the slow drip of Dilaudid, and stood up to check the rate of infusion on the painkiller.

“I'm guessing from your cane that you're Dr. House,” said a voice. House glanced down to see Mrs. James looking up at him. House sat down.

“Yeah, but there's a lot more to me than just my cane. There's also my charm and brilliant wit.”

“And I'm told a brilliant mind,” Mrs. James said. “I'm hoping that's true.” House looked away and fiddled with his cane.

“Your son has been more than a little generous with his assessment of me,” he said. “You are certainly presenting me with a unique and interesting case.”

“I'm sick of being interesting. That's the word all the other doctors used.” She had been speaking in a voice barely above a whisper, but now Bonnie James seemed to draw strength from her frustration. “My family has gotten used to a certain amount of limitations from me over the years. But this has taken me away from them. All I can do is lie here and be angry over the fact that I'm a burden to them and no one can do anything. Please,” she said looking House directly in the eyes. “Help me.” Help me. Words that would haunt House the rest of his life. A simple request that was proving so hard to grant once again.

“My team took a lot of information from you, but I'm sure you'll find it much more interesting to talk to me. So, Mrs. James… ” House began.

“You can call me Bonnie, Dr. House.” House nodded.

“And you can call me House, Bonnie.” She managed a little smile.

“I wouldn't be disrespectful. Although it was hard calling Remy, Dr. Hadley when she was here.” House pursed his lips and smiled slightly.

“Yes, I'm sure it was. So, I understand you're allergic to yourself.” Bonnie looked puzzled. “The majority of your ailments are auto-immune,” he explained. As much as she could, Bonnie nodded her head.

“Diabetes, when I was eleven, psoriasis the same year, Rheumatoid and psoriatic arthritis when I was thirty-seven. Fibromyalgia a year later. Looking back on things, I was probably having cardiac problems when I was thirty-nine or forty, but being uninformed, I didn't know what was happening to me.”

“You want to elaborate on that?” House asked.

“I used to be able to walk two, three miles, no problem. Carry laundry, walk up and down the stairs. The arthritis hadn't gotten really bad yet. Then I started experiencing back pain and fatigue. Although the back pain was unusual since it's the knees, elbows3 and hands that hurt first with RA, the fatigue was very typical. So, no one thought anything of it. Ten, twelve years ago, they didn't talk much about the fact that women experience back pain as a sign of cardiac distress; all anyone talked about was men and chest pain. Now, they talk about it all the time, thank God. Maybe it'll save a few lives.” House concurred.

“Sometimes the AMA's media machine does a good job. OK,” he said as he stood up. “Time for you to be a brave little soldier.” Bonnie looked fearful.

“Why? What are you going to do?” House looked at the vitals monitor. He saw that her heart rate and BP had started to rise just with anticipation of the pain.

“Just show me where the pain is. ‘Cause my team seems to think it's only right here.” House indicated the right side of her head and face. Bonnie took a deep breath before she began.

“Starting here,” she said pointing to the middle of her forehead at her hair line, "Go down to here, at the end of the nasal bone, on the right side only. It comes across here,” she said running her finger along the bottom of her eye socket. “It goes over to my ear. Now go up to the top of my head, right in the middle of the skull and draw a line back down to my hairline where I started. That's it. If I could just…remove that part of me, I would feel a thousand percent better.” House nodded.

“Removing it would be really cool; except it's too early to get ready for Halloween. Although, from what you're describing, every bar in the area would give you first prize.” He reached over to touch her face and heard her draw a breath in. “I'll be as gentle as I can. So this,” he said putting pressure on her right eyebrow, “Hurts. But this, doesn't,” he said as he placed his hand on the back of her head. She was literally shaking from the pain of House's initial touch.

“Yes, that's right.”

“And the pain is excruciating.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” Bonnie said. House smirked.

“Yes I would. More than you'd know.” He could feel her gaze on him, looking him over and down at his leg; but he chose not to return her look.

“Have you had a problem with your leg your whole life?” House sat down and rested his chin on the handle of his cane.

“No, the problem developed several years ago.”

“It changes you,” she noted. “The pain I mean. I'm not the person I used to be. Right after my husband and I met, he said that getting me drunk on champagne would be redundant.” House smiled. “No one would say that about me now. And it's not just this… thing that's happening to me at the moment… it's the pain from the RA and the Fibro. I still manage to enjoy some things, but that's because I have my husband.” She looked away. “I know he's been driving you a little crazy and I apologize.”

“I think a pack of Chihuahuas after a visit to Starbucks would be less annoying,” commented House. Bonnie smiled.

“He's a good guy. He's seen me at my best and he seen me at my worst,” she said indicating the hospital bed, “And he hasn't walked away.” House looked her with curiosity.

“Did he know what he was getting into?” he asked.

“All the other guys I dated, once they knew what life with me would be like, they couldn't handle it and left. I was just a diabetic back when Kyle and I met; none of the other stuff had come out. He asked and I told him of all the possible complications. I told him my whole family history; my mother had Multiple Sclerosis, my father had heart problems and my brother was a diabetic. Twenty-four years later, he's still here.” She winced and moved her hand up to her forehead and nose. “Pain's getting bad again.”

“I want to finish here before I up your pain med. Otherwise Lucy in the sky is going to float by with Major Tom trailing right behind. You're really going to hate me for this.” And without giving her a chance to protest, House stood up, quickly pulled the draw sheet on the bed and rolled Bonnie over to her right side.

“Oh no… please don't! Oh God! No! Please move me back!” The intense pain was instantaneous.

“I can't. It's just as I thought. You're already developing skin irritations from being on one side all the time. You don't need any other part of you screwed up.”

“Please, my husband is a nervous wreck as it is. Please don't let my family see me like this. Oh, God, the pain… ”

“What the hell is going on?” Kyle James asked as he stormed into his wife's room. “What have you done to her?”

“She has the beginning of bed sores from being on her left side all the time. She needs to take the pressure off or we can add that to her list of complaints.” Wilson and the team had entered the room as had the James' son.

“’List of complaints?’ Is that what you call what my wife is going through? You bastard!” James yelled, “You have some nerve to come in here and act like this isn't serious.”

“Mr. James, please take it easy. I can assure you that Dr. House is taking this quite seriously and is doing all that he can,” said Wilson.

“Well, obviously, it's not enough,” said James.

“Dad, come on, calm down; the best way you can help Mom right now is to let them do the blood tests they need. If you don't take it easy, they'll never get the blood out of you. You get nervous just talking about needles.” Bonnie James let out a surprisingly loud cry.

“Please just do what they want, honey. Help me.” Those two words again. House was growing to hate them more and more.

“Mr. James, why don't you come with us and let us get the blood tests started,” Thirteen said. “Your son can stay here for now and keep your wife company.” A rambling clutter of different conversations filled the room; James, Thirteen, Chase, Wilson, all of them talking over each other. Bonnie James’ crying was the only sound House focused on. Why couldn't he break this? He vaguely heard both Kyle James and his son arguing with each other and the team. What was he missing? He became aware of Wilson standing next to him.

“I've got one good nerve left and that guy is standing on it,” Wilson said quietly.

“Yeah, he's really… ” House stopped. He stared off past everyone in the room. One good nerve left. Got some nerve. The pieces were falling into place and making the border, at least, of a picture.

“Has your wife fallen or hit her head right before this started?” James stopped yelling. He looked taken aback.

“Not that I'm aware of,” he said. House looked at Don James.

“You know anything about your mom hurting her head, neck or back?”

“No. I mean she falls every once in a while on days when her arthritis is bad.”

“Has she fallen more as of late? Hit her head?” House asked urgently.

“No.”

"Where are you going with this?" Wilson asked. House walked over to Taub and spun him around so that he faced everyone in the room.

“She says the pain goes from here, to here, to here, to here,” said House as he traced the same outline on Taub that Bonnie did on herself. “What does that indicate?” House looked from one team member to another.

“A nerve trunk,” said Chase.

“Probably at the C-3 vertebrae given the location of the pain,” Thirteen said.

“The question now is what happened?” Taub said. House walked over to Bonnie.

“Have you fallen and hit your head recently?” House asked Bonnie. “Back just before this started?”

“No,” she said as she continued to cry. “Please put me back on my left side. Just while my family is here.” House leaned down to her.

“Are you sure you didn't fall? Hit your head?”

“Yes, I'm sure,” she said getting angry, “I'm with my body all day long. I'd think I'd know if I fell. Please put me back.” House straightened up and gestured for Thirteen and Taub to move Bonnie into a more comfortable position. He walked over to Kyle James.

“I don't know what's wrong with your wife, but I know how to give her some temporary relief.” House turned in the direction of the bed. “Something has either damaged or inflamed the nerve root of the C-3 vertebrae. My first thought was trauma, but since she hasn't fallen, that's not a likely cause. However,” he said sounding a bit more positive than he had. “We can start her on Neurontin. It has minimal side effects and will block most of the pain. It'll buy us some time while we figure out what the cause really is.” He turned to the team. “Start her on 300 milligrams, every eight hours. And get some Memory Foam under her to relieve the bed sores.” House walked over to Bonnie's bedside. Her crying has subsided since she had been moved onto her left side.

“I'm going to put the kitchen on alert. They normally don't stock champagne,” he said. “But I always enjoy watching intoxicated behavior in others.” She managed a smile.

“Please don't tease me.” House shook his head.

“I'm not; you should start to feel better soon. Now I just have to figure out how to keep you that way.”

“Thank you.”

“Hold that thought,” House said as he went to move away from the bed. He found himself face to face with Kyle James. The two men stood looking at each other for a moment.

“My son was right about you,” James said.

“Not yet he isn’t,” House replied. He walked out of the room followed by Foreman and Wilson.

“I’m surprised… concerning yourself with the comfort of the patient?” Wilson said.

“That’s only because bed sores are a pain in the ass to treat,” responded House.

“I never would have guessed a neurological issue,” said Foreman. “Everything pointed to the sinuses.”

“Yeah and you were accusing her of being a wuss who had no tolerance for pain,” snapped House. “Believe me she understands pain as well as I do.” He took a deep breath. “I need to get some fresh air and something to eat. If she has any problem with the Neurontin call me. If she's OK with it, lose my number.” As he walked away he reached into his left pocket.

“House?” Wilson had come up behind him. “You've still got it.” House frowned.

“Don't get me wrong; I like the patient. I'm glad we've made some progress. But I care more if I still got it somewhere else,” he said as he drew the piece of paper from his pocket.

House turned and left to keep his luncheon date.


	6. "Balancing on the Scaffolds"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> House and Lydia enjoy a quiet, intimate lunch together, remembering their past and exploring the possibilities for their future... when a call from House's team necessitate his sudden return to the hospital as the patient reaches another crisis.

"Out of the Ashes"

Chapter Six- "Balancing on the Scaffolds"

By: purpleu

 

 

House's eyes needed a minute to adjust from the brightness outside Otto's Sports Grill to the dim atmosphere inside. He squinted as he looked at the clock behind the bar; one-fifteen in bar time, five after one to the rest of the world. House never understood the point of bar time. Even really drunk people knew the clock was set ahead to try and get them out of the place at actual closing time, so what was the point? House realized he was avoiding looking for Lydia. He wasn't sure if he was afraid she wouldn't show or afraid if she did. His eyes moved along the row of booths against the back wall and finally spotted her in the next to last one on the left. Moving forward in the direction of the booth, he was surprised at how nervous he began to feel, like a kid on their first date.

“Hi,” House said arriving at the booth where Lydia sat. She turned her face upward to him and smiled.

“Hello, stranger,” she said. House leaned down and gave her a kiss, then sat down on the bench opposite Lydia. The waitress came over immediately.

“Hi, folks. Can I get you something to drink?” House gestured for Lydia to go first.

“I take a Budweiser,” she said. House gave her a look.

“A nice German girl like you ordering a Bud? That's like an Englishman ordering tea and asking for Lipton.” he said.

“I'm slumming,” she explained with a smile. House nodded and also smiled.

“Make that two,” he said.

“Bottle or tap?” the waitress asked.

“Bottle's fine,” House said. “And an order of wings. Hot.” The waitress nodded and left to place their order. “Figures you’d be slumming; it follows the precedent set at Mayfield when you stared making out with me.”

“That was a monumental step up, believe me,” Lydia said shaking her head.

“I’ll take you at your word,” said House. “Sorry for just ordering, but I haven't had anything to eat yet today. I want to keep my head clear in case my team suddenly forgets how to be doctors.”

“How is your patient doing?” Lydia asked. House winced.

Better. I was able to figure out the source of the pain, now I just have to figure out why it's happening. At least I know which medicine can give some relief.” House looked down at the table. “She understands dealing with pain better than I do… mainly because she actually deals with it rather than trying to hide from it.” The waitress had arrived with the bottles of Bud.

“The wings will be ready in a couple of minutes,” she said as she placed the bottles on the table.

“Thanks,” said Lydia. She studied House for a moment. “So, what's her secret?” House looked across at Lydia.

“What?”

“The woman… your patient. What's her secret for dealing with pain?” House frowned.

“I never asked her directly. I probably should.” He picked up his bottle and raised it toward her. “Prost!” Lydia looked at him in surprise.

“Prost!” she said in return. Both took a drink and Lydia spoke as soon as she had swallowed hers. “How do you know the German word for cheers?”

“I took the Evelyn Wood speed reading adaptation of Rosetta Stone. I can have complex conversations with you now. Of course most of what I say can get me sued; but that's true of when I speak English, too.” He took a drink from his bottle. “I never mentioned this when we first met, but I spent some time in Germany as a kid. Picked up the language through native speakers. Did that in all the countries we went to. My dad was in the Marines. I spent time in a lot of different places.” Lydia looked surprised.

“So did I. My father was in the diplomatic office. We were in Holland, China, Japan, Egypt, and the United States. So many different countries. It was fun at first; but then, when you realize that just as you are making friends, you have to leave, it's not so much fun anymore. I suppose if I had some brothers or sisters, it would have helped a bit, but I'm an only child.” The waitress came over and placed plates and napkins on the table.

“Food's coming right out.” she said. House nodded.

“Yeah, I don't have anyone who shares my DNA hanging around. At least not that I know of.” House twirled the neck of the bottle between his fingers. "Interesting that you and I had the same experience as kids. It puts you in a certain frame of mind for the rest of your life,” he said.

“In what way?” asked Lydia. House began peeling the label off his bottle, leaving the scraps in a pile.

“You always feel like you never get the chance to form any real relationship, friendship or otherwise with anyone. And the few times that you do, one of you is going to get ripped away because someone got transferred and any kind of trust or connection you formed is gone. So later in life, you don't bother trying or you go for the ones you know will fail.”

“A self-fulfilling prophecy,” Lydia noted. “I'm surprised you're telling me this. You must trust me.”

“I'm surprised, too.” House hesitated for a moment then looked into her eyes. “You scare the hell out of me.” Lydia looked taken aback.

“Why?”

“Because you came back to New Jersey after leaving your husband and one of the first things you do is look for me. I don't know whether to be flattered or terrified.” Lydia was clearly stunned.

“You make me sound like a stalker,” she said. House nodded.

“That's what I told Wilson you were. He saw us in the lobby at the hospital and wanted to know all about you; I didn't feel like talking, so I told him I met you at Mayfield and now you were stalking me.” Lydia clasped her hand to her forehead.

“Who is Wilson? And how many states am I wanted in?” she asked. The waitress arrived with the food.

“Here you are. Enjoy.” House reached over, grabbed a wing and started to eat. It took a second for him to realize Lydia was staring at him. He put the wing down and wiped his mouth with one of the napkins.

“Wilson is my best friend. He's a doctor at the hospital. Don't worry, I told him the truth; you're only wanted in New Jersey.” He started to pick the wing up again when he saw that he was still being stared at. “I told him the actual truth. We met when you came to visit your friend and we…connected.” House tried to take a bite when he realized Lydia was still looking at him. “I swear that's what I said.”

“‘Connected.’ A very interesting choice of words.” Lydia reached over and picked up a wing.

“Why, what would you have said? I met a nut job in a psych ward who almost killed a fellow patient?”

“No, I would say I met an intelligent, caring, funny, slightly crazy man… that I fell in love with.” House stopped chewing and watched as Lydia took a bite of her wing. She took her gaze away from her food and returned his look.

“OK, I was going with the idea of flattered, but now I'm headed straight to terrified.”

“Why?”

“Look,” House said as he put down his food. “You were in an unhappy marriage and maybe me being a patient there gave things a dangerous, edgy thrill you weren't getting at home.” He looked down at the table. “I'm a screwed up, self-centered bastard. That's what I'll always be. I'm definitely not your kind of guy.” He grabbed his beer bottle, took a swig and closed his eyes.

“Funny… I think we are a perfect match.” House opened his eyes and shook his head.

“I think the English-German translation thing isn't working so well,” he said taking another drink. “Unfortunately, this kind of subject never came up while I was in Germany, so I never learned the phrase ‘really bad idea.’” Lydia shook her head.

“I understood you perfectly well, I just disagree with you. Because what am I, but a screwed up, self-centered bitch who married a man she didn't love just to have him fill a need? And have children with him, even. How many people do you know like that?” House thought for a moment.

“One,” said House thinking of Cameron. Lydia leaned back in the booth.

“Please be serious,” she begged.

“I was, actually.” He picked up his wing again, but then put it back down. “You thought you were doing the right thing to get you through seeing your best friend disappear before your eyes. I know I'd probably do something stupid if I thought I was losing Wilson. Correction… I have done stupid things when I thought I was losing Wilson.” Lydia smiled, leaned forward and took a drink.

“Well, at least we are in agreement about our best friends.” House nodded. “My only consolation in what I did, was that Ben, my ex-husband, also married me for the same reason.”

“He told you that?” House asked. Lydia interlocked her fingers and rested her chin on her hands.

“We both knew that what we had was a sham. One night when he was actually in a reasonable mood, we sat and talked. He was the one who came out and admitted it first. He told me that while he always liked me, as far as being Annie's friend, he was never attracted to me in a romantic way. His girlfriend had broken up with him because he was obsessed with Annie's problem and his temper, and he didn't have the inclination to spend any time on looking for someone else. He saw I was in need of emotional support and knew I was vulnerable.” Lydia took a long drink of her beer.

“And he never came to see her,” House noted.

“He used to. At some point, he saw the situation as hopeless and stopped coming. I couldn't abandon her like that. I actually went into labor with my son while I was visiting her. I think I set some of the patients back in their recovery when that happened. Ben is seven and Elise is four. You saw Ben when you came to my house that night.” Lydia smiled as she remembered the visit. House shook his head.

“I shouldn't have done that. Somehow I imagined it was just you and your husband. That maybe I'd be able to convince you to leave him. For what I don't know.” House said ruefully. Lydia reached across the table for House's hand.

“If I didn't have my children, I would have left him.” House's eyes widened as his mind took in what Lydia had said; now he was really scared. He dropped his head, closed his eyes and remained silent for quite a while. Lydia could sense a change in his demeanor. He pulled his hand away from hers.

“Well, at least I know what I have to look forward to with you,” House said with quiet anger. “You'll put up with me being a self-centered son-of-a-bitch for just so long and then you'll dump me for the first guy that looks like a white knight, even if he turns out to be a jerk.”

“Is that what you think of me? That I would do that to you?” asked Lydia. House took a drink and set the bottle down hard on the table.

“Didn't you describe yourself as a screwed up bitch a little while ago? Now all of a sudden you're not? I guess it's that Anglo-Kraut translation thing again.” Lydia had her hand up to her mouth trying to compose herself.

“I was talking about myself with my ex-husband. I didn't love him and when he stopped seeing Annie, I didn't even like him anymore.” She wiped away the few tears that had fallen. “I could never feel that way about you. I know what kind of man you are. I saw enough of it at Mayfield.”

“What you saw was a pathetic excuse for a human being. I broke rule after rule, nearly killed someone and screwed around with a married woman.” It was useless for Lydia to hold back her tears; House's last words hurt her deeply.

“And despite that, I wouldn't trade you for anyone. I know who and what you are. You are far from perfect; so am I and I accept that with no reservations.” House was looking directly at her as she spoke. He looked away, surveying the room and slowly began to shake his head.

“I can't do this… it’s not going to work.” He grabbed his cane, slid out of the booth and very quickly stood up. Lydia looked up at him, her eyes clearly showing the pain she felt.

“Please don't… ” she began. But she couldn't finish what she was saying; for House had slid onto the bench seat next to her, wrapped his arms around her and gave her a long, passionate kiss. When he pulled back away, Lydia was looking at him with a mixture of extreme confusion and extreme happiness.

“I was trying so hard not to let you get to me. Again. But I couldn't do it, I couldn't push you away,” House said quietly. Lydia smiled.

“That's because I am really good at pushing back.” House nodded.

“It's the Fraulein in you,” he said. She laughed, but quickly stopped as House leaned in for another kiss. This time it was Lydia who broke contact.

“You know we're in a very public place,” she said. House looked around.

“Yeah, and I don't suppose they have a dark, quiet room where no one will find us.”

“And someone from your team may call,” she reminded him. He looked pained.

“That would really cramp my style. And piss me off besides.” She laughed and reached up to stroke the back of his head. The hair hadn't finished re-growing around the wound he received at the crane collapse.

“What happened to your head? How did you get hurt?” Lydia asked. House took a deep breath.

“I don't know if Cactus News Network carried anything about a crane collapse in this area a few months ago, but I got dragged into helping at the site. I was taking care of a woman trapped under the rubble and when they tried to free her, there was a second collapse and I got hurt. I was in a medically induced coma for weeks. There was a third collapse and that got my boss, Cuddy. She's in a vegetative state in a rehab center.” He stared down at the table as his mind wandered. What would he tell Lydia about Cuddy? If he went by Wilson's take on things, there was nothing to tell. Yet, he felt the need to mention her in detail. House felt no longing or regret; just guilt that it was Cuddy who was on a permanent mental holiday and not him. But if it had been him, he wouldn't be sitting here with Lydia. And no amount of guilt over anyone was going to make him give that up. He was so deep in thought, that he didn't notice the waitress standing by the table.

“Can I get you another round?” she asked.

“Yeah, that'd be a good idea,” said House. He looked up and saw that Lydia was looking at him intently. “I don't even know your last name. What moniker are you going by these days?” Lydia smiled.

“Well, I was Lydia Harris when we met, but I’ve had my name changed back to the name I was born with, Lydia Strohman. I was concerned at first how the children would react to their mother having a different last name than them, but they are fine with it. In fact, since my son has my ex’s name, he wants to change his name entirely.”

“How are they taking things?”

“Very well,” said Lydia. “Ben, my ex, was never close to them. He was always away on business and never made much effort with them. But, they adore their Aunt Annie, and she them. They are so thrilled that they will be living with her. Right now, Annie and I are staying with friends, but we're apartment hunting already and as soon as I find something, the children will join me.” Lydia saw the faraway look in his eyes. “Are you OK?” she asked as she took his hand.

“Yeah. At least I know enough about you to look you up on Google,” he said.

“Now who's being a stalker?” Lydia teased. House looked away for a moment. For some reason, he felt the need to talk.

“I think I'm going to give you the condensed story of my life and then I can fill in the details as time goes by.” Lydia nodded as the waitress arrived with the beers.

“Here you go. Do you need anything else?”

“No. We're fine,” said House. He slid Lydia's beer over to her. “Sure you're ready?”

“Yes, of course.” He told her the events of his life in a very typical Greg House kind of way. Some things had her laughing; some things horrified her. From traveling around the world with his parents while his father served in the Marines, to being thrown out of medical school, to establishing the Diagnostics department at PPTH, to meeting Stacy, to his leg, to his Vicodin addiction and all the other things he tried to deal with the pain, to Amber and Kutner, to discovering the man he called "dad" wasn't really his father, to Mayfield, to the crane collapse, to everything in between including his twenty or so year obsession over Cuddy, although he left out most of the details on that chapter of his life, to most of the scenes that played out while in the coma. When he was finished speaking, he waited for Lydia's reaction.

“I can't believe it,” she finally said.

“What part?”

“That you were willing to risk your life like that. When you had a woman you loved and who loved you in return. There's so much more to you than any one part. You were going to leave all that behind? You could accept dying?” she asked.

“I would have rather died than gone through the hell I've experienced.” House picked up his bottle and took a long drink. “I live with intense pain every day. I wasn't the easiest person to be around before this happened; now… ” Lydia took his hand.

“You know, it's never too late to become the person you were meant to be. I'm not saying big, life-altering changes, but people can adapt to their circumstances.” House shook his head.

“One of the things I've always believed is than people don't change; they just become more of who they really are.” Lydia studied his face for a moment.

“I'm guessing that's because you don't like change; you had too much of it in your life from an early age. But, if you changed from the way you were before the problem with your leg, to the way you are now, what's to say you couldn't change again? Or at least stop stagnating in self-pity.” She squeezed his hand. “Please understand, I'm not asking you to change. I fell in love with you the way you are, who you are. Why would I want to lose that person? Asking you to change… would be insane.” House looked at her for a long moment, then pulled her to him for a kiss. When they parted, Lydia thought she saw tears in his eyes. “Greg, what's wrong? What did I say?” House decided to get it over with… he launched into the twenty-plus year history of Gregory House and Lisa Cuddy in detail, including their off and on flirtations, Dr. Nolan urging him to go after a real relationship, the details of his hallucinations while in the medically induced coma and Wilson's opinion of the Cuddy situation.

“I did everything I could to do the right thing, to be what she wanted. And in the end, I screwed it up.”

“But, that was just something you imagined; that wasn't real. And as far as real life, I happen to agree with what Wilson said about her. He gives very good advice,” observed Lydia. House looked at her like she was crazy.

“No, Wilson has three ex-wives. Getting relationship advice from Wilson is like getting acting tips from Paris Hilton.” Lydia laughed. She saw that House had a very sad expression on his face and decided to do something about it.

“Well?” she asked. House looked at her quizzically. “Diamonds or pearls?” He could see a playful twinkle in her eyes. He figured he might as well go for it; the atmosphere could use some lightening up.

“Pearls, the mountains, green, you voted for Obama, and since you voted, it means you are a citizen of this country.” She smiled broadly, leaned over and kissed him.

"Five for five,” Lydia said. Suddenly, a phone began to ring; it was Lydia's. She looked around, searching for her phone. Locating it, Lydia said, “It's the lawyer handling the custody arrangement for the children. Excuse me, I have to answer this.” House stood up and let her leave the booth. He watched her as she made her way to the door of the building. He sat back down, put his head into his hands and thought, what the hell am I doing? I know I'm going to mess this up, but she's willing to take the chance that I won't. And even if I do screw up, she's willing to help me fix it. He reached for his beer and took a long slow drink. As he set the bottle down, he realized that while he had never felt this good about his life, he was also scared he was taking the final step over the edge. If he couldn't make it work with this incredible woman, then… He slowly became aware of the Van Morrison song playing on the juke box.

“I've been travelin' a hard road, lookin' for someone exactly like you.

I've been carryin' my heavy load, waitin' for the light to come shinnin' through.

Someone like you makes it all worthwhile, someone like you keeps me satisfied.

Someone exactly like you.”

House managed a slight smile. Maybe… maybe this time… Now it was House's phone ringing. He looked at it disdainfully. Work.

“I take it our patient is ready to audition for ‘So You Think You Can Dance’?” House asked as he answered the call.

“Far from it,” said Chase. “She started running a fever and vomiting. Now she's hallucinating. She says she feels like she's jumping out of the window in her room, that she can feel herself falling. Oh and there's a circus going on in her room. She can see the dancing elephants and poodles on the wall.” Lydia came back to table and sat opposite House.

“Damn… and I'm missing it,” House said. He saw their waitress and motioned for her. “I need these wings to get legs. And the check,” he said after she came over. The waitress nodded, picked up the plate and walked away.

“She seems to be having some kind of reaction to the Neurontin,” said Taub.

“Either Chase swallowed a chipmunk or our connection is getting crossed with the Desperate Doctors of New Jersey,” commented House. The waitress returned with the boxed up food and the check. House looked at the check quickly and indicated that she should wait. He stood up, pulled some bills out of his pocket and handed them to her. “Thanks,” he said.

“Wait a minute, did you just pay for lunch?” asked Wilson. House rolled his eyes.

“When did we get a party line at the hospital?” he asked.

“You're on speaker,” said Wilson. “And answer the question.”

“Yes, I did and I'll discuss it later.” House gestured to Lydia to head toward the door. She grabbed the food and started walking. “Back to the patient. Put a hold on the next doses of Neurontin and Vicodin. They're interacting and the effects of the Neurontin are being magnified. Once Ringling Brothers has pulled down the big top and the fever and vomiting are gone, we can bring the Vicodin back in.” House and Lydia stepped outside.

"Where is your car parked?” she whispered.

“Not here,” House said. Lydia looked confused, but sensing House’s urgency to get back to the hospital, she didn’t question him.

“I’ll drive you,” she said.

“Thanks.”

“House, where are you and who are you talking to?” asked Foreman. House glanced sideways at Lydia.

“I'm with my new friend from a web site I found called Bodacious Bavarian Beauties.” Lydia looked at him in horror. “And I'm on cloud nine.” She smiled as House ended the call.

“Aren't you afraid they are going to ask questions?” Lydia inquired.

“They can ask,” said House. “And I can choose to have selective hearing.” House reached up, put his arm around her and kissed the top of her head as they arrived at her car. “Sorry for the quick exit. Everything OK on the legal front?”

“Yes, thank goodness. You know,” Lydia said as they stopped walking. “I told you that I fell in love with you at Mayfield, but I haven't actually said those three little words to you yet.” House leaned back against the car. “And you haven't said them to me.”

“Sell high, buy low?” he asked. Lydia put her hand on her hip.

“That's four words,” she said. House looked away from her. She reached up and very gently turned his face so that they made eye contact. “I love you,” she said. House looked away again.

“I… I'm sorry. I can't. That’s not the way I want to say it,” he said. House saw the disappointed look on her face. He got off the car and moved over to her.

“It's OK,” Lydia replied. “I understand I’m being very forward… ”

“Fraulein?” House interrupted. “Ich liebe dich,” he said which was German for 'I love you'. She looked at him in amazement and broke into a huge smile as she threw her arms around him. She pulled back away from him just enough to give him a kiss.

“Your German is fantastic,” she said as she pushed the clicker for the car.

“Danke,” he replied. House didn’t want the moment to end, but he knew they had to get going. “I hate to break this up… ”

“I know; get in so we can get going.” Both of them climbed into Lydia’s car and drove off to the hospital.


	7. "Hooking Up the Safety Ropes"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lydia drives House back to the hospital, all the while continuing to get a feel for what their relationship will be like. Once they arrive at PPTH, the first hurdle for their newfound pairing presents itself; House introduces Lydia to Wilson... which proves to be a very good thing, as in the midst of their small talk, House has an epiphany concerning his patient.

“Out of the Ashes”

Chapter Seven-“Hooking Up the Safety Ropes”

By: purpleu

 

 

“You'll have to tell me which way to go,” said Lydia as she pulled away from the curb. “I’ve only ever approached the hospital from a different direction. And being in labor at the time, I wasn’t paying much attention to the route taken.”

“Go straight, turn right at the second light,” said House. He looked over at Lydia as his mind tried to grasp what was happening. This beautiful, wonderful woman loved him. How the hell did this happen? His previous relationships had never been a rousing success, except for one that had potential, then ended badly. Next came Stacy which also went down in flames; finally, years of an off and on relationship with Cuddy that really never amounted to anything except in his delusional mind. Now here was someone real who was willing to put up with his crap. What was wrong with this picture? House looked around and took note of the fact that this wasn't the car Lydia was driving when they met.

“What happened to the convertible?”

“I gave it up as part of our property settlement. This is a rental. I am going to have the kids and be driving them around; a convertible didn't seem to be very practical.”

“Gee, Mom, you're no fun,” said House as he folded his arms.

“Now, now; Mother knows best. I couldn't have you teaching the little ones any tricks, like how to fly.” House unfolded his arms, shook his head and smiled. “What's wrong?” Lydia asked.

“Nothing. That's the problem. Make a left at the second light.” He leaned his head back against the seat. “I was expecting you to fold like a house of cards. I thought a few nasty words from me and you'd decide you couldn't put up with me and leave.” He put his head down. “I'm glad you didn't.”

“If I couldn't put up with you, I wouldn't have wasted my time coming back here.” She could sense that House was looking at her. “I didn't come here on an impulse; I thought things over very carefully. I had many things to consider, especially my kids.” House raised his eyebrows.

“And that didn't stop you cold?” he asked. “I really don't have any kind of parental instinct. Trust me. I encourage kids to go play in traffic. Turn right at the next light.”

“Yet, when you had your dreams while in the coma, you saw yourself several times with Dr. Cuddy's daughter. You even imagined her snuggling up to you.” Lydia smiled. “Since you said all of those things were from your subconscious mind, I'd say your thoughts betray your words.” House looked out the window as Lydia made the right turn.

“Go straight for about five miles and you'll see the signs for the hospital.” Lydia looked puzzled.

“The hospital is a bit of a distance away from Otto's,” she said. “How did you get to the bar?” House shrugged.

“Same way I usually get around,” he said casually. Lydia was confused for a moment.

“You mean your motorcycle?” House nodded “Where… where is your motorcycle now?”

“Back at Otto’s.” Lydia quickly looked over her right shoulder, saw that the lane was clear and pulled over to an empty spot by the curb. House looked around, startled. “Why are we pulling over? You were doing fine.” Lydia put the car in park. She turned to House with one hand on her hip and the other over the seatback.

“If you had your bike at Otto’s, why am I driving you back to work?” she asked strumming her fingers on the top of the seat. House gestured with wide open hands.

“Because I didn't want to seem rude refusing such a kind and generous offer,” House said sarcastically. “Besides, I figured it might give us a few extra minutes to get reacquainted.” He had unbuckled his seat belt as he was talking and moved in to kiss her, but with his eyes closed he couldn't see that she had put up her hand to stop him.

“How do you intend to get your motorcycle back?” House opened his eyes.

“You. Since one and a half chicken wings is a mere snack in even the most economically depressed of countries, I still owe you a decent meal.”

“And what if I'm busy later?” Lydia inquired. House sighed.

“Then I'll be forced to go through a task more arduous than a Lady Gaga costume change: a car ride with Wilson asking questions the entire way.” She tried to hide it, but Lydia couldn't help smiling.

“I have an interview at four and Annie and I are seeing some apartments with the realtor at five. I don't know what time we'll be done, but I suppose I can call you later.” She took her hand off his shoulder and leaned in to meet his lips for a kiss. A few seconds later, she pulled back and shook her head. “How does he do it?”

“How does Wilson put up with me?” House asked. “He does it by remembering I've got just as much dirt on him as he has on me. Plus, I'm cuter than he is.”

“I'll be the judge of that," said Lydia as she drove back into the flow of traffic. She reached over and turned on the radio. “I found a really great jazz station the other day, but I think Annie may have changed the station when she had the car. We're sharing it for now. Could you find 91.3, please?”

“WXJZ,” said House as he leaned over to play with the buttons on the tuner. “I know this one well.” He pushed the search button a few times and suddenly the sweet sounds of jazz were coming from the speakers. Lydia smiled.

“‘Straight, No Chaser’ by Thelonious Monk,” she said. House looked over at her, absolutely amazed.

“How does a nice Fraulein like you know who Thelonious Monk is, never mind the name of the song?” he asked. Lydia pretended to be wounded by the question.

“There is much more to me than just oompa bands and lederhosen, you know.” She reached into the middle console and pulled out a pair of sun glasses. “I am a very hip chick.” She put the glasses on and gave her head a slight toss. House laughed; he really hated to admit it, but he was actually having fun. But that concept was definitely something House was not used to, and so it was time to break up the frivolity.

“Just want you to know I'm not back on Vicodin. I haven't had any since I've gotten out of Mayfield. Not that I didn't want it, especially in the past few weeks.” House looked over at Lydia. He was trying judge her reaction, but she sat expressionless.

“There's nothing hidden in the wall behind the medicine cabinet?”

“Nope”

“Nothing hidden anywhere in your apartment, your car, your motorcycle?”

“Nope, nope, and nope.”

“At work?” House rolled his head in her direction.

“Boy, you don't give up. I don't have a hidden supply anywhere. In fact if I want any kind of drug, I have to go groveling to Wilson. I'd rather be beaten to death by a wagging puppy dog's tail; it's actually close to the same thing.” Now Lydia was smiling.

“I'm very proud of you. I haven't had much experience with addicts and addiction, but I have heard it's very difficult not to relapse. Sometimes it's not even the physical craving, but the mental and emotional cravings that drive people back.” She glanced over at him. “I'm very glad that you've been strong, especially given what you've just been through.” She slowed down at the light as it turned red. “I see the blue H sign; I turn right at the next block.” Lydia looked at House; he was staring out the window refusing to return her look. She reached over to take his hand. “If you ever slip up, please, just be honest and tell me so we can deal with it.” She took her hand back and started to drive, making the turn as the sign directed. House sat in stunned silence. So _we_ can deal with it. The thought of him relapsing didn't seem to faze her. She would be there for him. She wouldn't walk away. She… “You're very quiet. You're thinking about the fact that Dr. Cuddy broke up with you in your hallucination when you took just one Vicodin. Well, let's get this straight right now,” Lydia said as she put on her left turn indicator to pull into the hospital parking lot. “This is not a dream or a hallucination. This,” she said pointing to herself. “Is real. And I am Lydia Marie Strohman, not Dr. Lisa Cuddy. Please,” she said shaking her head, “Don't ever confuse us. I'm not her and I'm not even Stacy. And I can say that even though I know very little about them. Now, where should I drop you off?”

“My handicap parking spot by the front door.” House was really confused now. He was not used to someone telling him how to think; at least not anyone he would listen to or gave a damn about. He didn't know whether to be pissed or glad that she felt comfortable enough to talk to him bluntly. He became aware of the fact that Lydia was looking at him.

“You're mad at me,” she said. House put his hands up to his face and rubbed his eyes.

“I'm not sure what I am right now. But you sure know how to keep me thinking.” He turned to look at her. “No, I'm not mad. I'm just going to need some time to get used to the Lydia Marie Strohman way of doing things.” Lydia pulled into his parking spot, and put the car in park. She turned to House.

“I know that you experienced a very deep hurt with both Stacy and Dr. Cuddy and I’m not looking to lay blame on anyone; I don’t know enough about the situations. I'm just fighting for the right to be judged for who I am, and not be compared to someone else all the time. I want to have the right to get mad at you and not be afraid that you're going to shut me out. We're allowed to be annoyed with each other, angry, even. It's no reflection on our relationship to have negative feelings or emotions once in a while.” House smirked.

“Negative emotions are something I'm very good at.”

“Yes… yes you are,” Lydia said, “But you also were just smiling and laughing, too.” Lydia turned her head away. “I feel like I'm better being with you. I am happier, right now, in just the past ninety minutes or so that we've been together, than I have been… in years. And it's all your fault.” House turned and looked into her eyes. “I just hope I make you feel the same way,” she said. House reached up, brushed her cheek gently until his fingers rested under her chin.

“You make me feel better about myself than I have in my entire life.” They both were smiling as House leaned forward to give her a kiss; then suddenly, he pulled back. “Oh, damn,” he said.

“What's the matter?” Lydia asked.

“It's Wilson. He lives his romantic life vicariously through me. He's going to want all the gory details.” Sure enough, Wilson was walking toward them, tilting his head from side to side to see who was in the car.

“You don't want to introduce me to your best friend? That's not fair. You know my best friend.” House started to open the car door.

“That was a little hard to avoid. C'mon, shut off the car. Might as well get this over with.” He stood up and immediately made eye contact with Wilson; the Death Stare was in full force.

“House, what the hell took you so long?” Lydia stood up from the car and looked at Wilson.

“It's not Greg’s fault, Dr. Wilson; it's mine. I kept pulling over so we could make out a little bit more and a little bit more and well, you know how those things usually go… or don't you?” As far as House was concerned, at that moment Lydia had sealed the deal with him. Wilson standing there with his mouth agape, and his eyes bugging out was priceless. He closed the door and moved to the front of the car until he was standing next to Lydia.

“Dr. James Wilson, Lydia Strohman. Lydia Strohman, Dr. James Wilson. Best Friend, meet Girlfriend.” Wilson extended his hand to Lydia, still dazed by what she had said. Lydia could see that Wilson wasn't going to initiate a conversation, so she took the lead.

“I'm sorry if I shocked you, Dr. Wilson. I'm a bit tired and there's just been far too much going on today. I'm a little glibber than perhaps I should be.” She smiled and glanced shyly at House. Wilson shook his head.

“No, well, actually… nice to meet you,” he finally said as he shook her hand. “I'm afraid you really caught me off-guard. I didn't expect to meet someone with House's warped sense of humor. Especially coming from such a lovely lady.”

“You know, Greg told me he was cuter than you; but I think I'm going to need a little more time to decide that,” Lydia said playfully as she looked at House.

“OK, enough of the charming small talk. How's the patient?” asked House.

“She's off the Neurontin and the Vicodin. The fever, vomiting and hallucinations have stopped. But she's back to being in horrible pain. Her family is losing it. The husband is just sitting by her bedside begging her to hang in there; he's crying most of the time. Taub and Chase are taking turns keeping the son occupied with some video game challenge. Thirteen is just hovering around the patient trying to come up with an idea,” Wilson said.

“Thirteen's a waste right now,” muttered House. Wilson looked at him quizzically. House shook his head. “Internal issue within the team. Where's Forman?”

“Dealing with a problem in the clinic. It seems some mother couldn't understand why we wanted to isolate her kid immediately when he came strolling in with a fever and rash.”

“Chicken pox?” asked Lydia. House turned to her.

“Quick diagnosis, Dr. Strohman. Got any ideas about what's wrong with the patient?” House's tone was bordering on snarky. He knew she was just trying to be helpful, but after dealing with the husband, he didn't want to hear anything from yet another amateur.

“What are the clinical results showing?” House and Wilson turned to look at Lydia. “Her labs, CAT scan, whatever tests you've done; what are they showing?” House looked around, trying to control his annoyance.

“Look, it's a sweet thought, but two dozen or so episodes of ‘ER’ do not a doctor make.” Now it was Lydia's turn to be annoyed.

“I have never seen a single second of ‘ER’; I can't stand those T.V. medical dramas. For your information, I was studying to be a doctor. I had to leave my studies when my parents were in a horrible car accident. So, no, I don't have a fraction of your knowledge, but I do know what you're talking about.” House was floored.

“Why didn't you tell me? Either now or back at Mayfield?” Lydia shrugged.

“It wasn't as important as the other things we were discussing.” House nodded.

“I want to hear all the details later. Right now, I have to get upstairs.” Lydia looked at her watch.

“And I have to leave for my interview. I was going to step inside to use the ladies room.” House stood there for a moment looking around. He was struggling with the words he wanted to say.

“This is my first day back after the accident. I've been handed one hell of a case and I'm questioning everything I'm doing and thinking. About everything,” he said as he finally looked at her. “I'm sorry if I was out of line.”

“It's OK; you're allowed.” House became aware that Wilson was still standing there.

“We'd better get inside,” he said. House reached over, put his arm around Lydia and guided her to the hospital entrance with Wilson following. House could feel Wilson's eyes burning into the back of his head, wanting to ask a million questions, but they were going have to wait. The patient and Lydia came first. House stopped just past the reception desk.

“Make a right down this hallway. The bathrooms are a couple of doors down on the right.” Lydia nodded.

“I'm going to let you two get upstairs to the patient. I just want to splash some water on my face to refresh me, and then I'll be off.”

“Are you OK?” asked Wilson.

“Yes, it's just that I woke up earlier than I had planned. The neighbors across the street from where I'm staying are having a new roof put on and they dropped off the shingles and other roofing supplies around 6:30 this morning. I had hoped to sleep in a little while longer. But thank you for asking Dr. Wilson.”

“Please, call me James.” At Wilson’s comment, House rolled his eyes.

“Sorry to interrupt this lovely social interlude, but … ” House stopped and stared at the wall behind Lydia's head.

“Greg, are you all right?” asked Lydia. She could see the strange look on his face.

“House?” asked Wilson.

“Chicken pox. Shingles.” The epiphany had arrived. House turned to look at Wilson.

“Are you talking about the patient, Mrs. James? House, she doesn't have shingles, there's no rash.” House was vigorously shaking his head before Wilson could even finish speaking.

“Herpes zoster is the reactivation of varicella zoster virus,” began House.

“Shingles from Chicken pox. Right, I get that,” said Wilson. House shook his head.

“What you don't get, Dr. Watson, is zoster sine herpete.”

“All the symptoms of shingles, but no vesicular rash?” questioned Lydia “That's extremely unusual.” House looked at her and smiled.

“At least someone around here understands me. Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus. And a nasty mother hiding in my patient at her C-3 vertebrae.”

“House,” said Wilson as he looked at his pager. “She's coding.” House started moving toward the elevator, then turned to Lydia.

“Call me later. Good luck with the interview.” He went toward the elevators with Wilson following right behind. House quickly turned back to Lydia. “Ich liebe dich.”

“It was nice to meet you,” said Wilson. “I'm sure I'll see you again.”

“I think we'll be seeing lots of each other, James.” House scowled as he entered the elevator.

“Not if I can help it,” he said. Lydia smiled.

"”Ich liebe dich, auch," she said as the elevator doors closed. Wilson turned to say something to House, but was startled when House started to repeatedly pound his fist into the elevator wall.

“I can't deal with this,” House said looking at the floor.

“Wait…what are you talking about the patient? Or Lydia?” asked Wilson.

“Both.” Wilson shook his head.

“No… no, House, you are not doing this. I know what you're thinking. I know what you told me about the dream in the coma. That being in love with Cuddy made you a worse doctor and that you would always chose her. But this woman is definitely not Lisa Cuddy. This woman is warm and playful and caring and… amazing. And it is so obvious she loves you, that… I'm jealous. I'm also extremely happy for you. Just don't be stupid. Don't try and push her away.”

“I already did. I basically called her a bitch and a slut for cheating on her husband and it didn't matter; she still loves me.” House said with a frown. Wilson looked amazed.

“She's married? House, I hope you know what you're getting into.”

“She was married. The divorce is final; now she's just brokering a deal for the kids.”

“Kids?”

“Yeah, you know, pygmy versions of adults.” Wilson let out a long whistle.

“Boy, you have a lot to think about.”

“Maybe if I had been here thinking about the patient instead of chasing an illusion, I could’ve helped her more,” he said. The elevator doors opened and House began walking to the patient's room. As he rounded the nurse's station, Wilson grabbed his arm.

“She is not an illusion. Nor is the emotion I just saw between you two. Nothing huge or overly dramatic; just very, very real. You're overwhelmed right now and I get that. Don't blow this. But… if you do, I'm going to get her phone number from you.” House gave him a sharp look.

“The hell you will."

“I'm kidding,” said Wilson as he started walking, “But does she have a sister?”

“Nope; Just her best friend, Annie.”

“The one who was a patient at Mayfield,” said Wilson.

“Right, the psych patient.” House sized up Wilson. “Probably the one type of woman you haven't yet tried.” He looked to his left. “Time to go play doctor.” 

Wilson smiled and shook his head as House left for Bonnie James' room.


	8. "Checking the Blueprints"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Problems continue to plague the patient as she has a reaction to treatment. Taking an unconventional approach to confirming his suspicions, House order's tests that the team has trouble performing due to her condition. House also confronts Thirteen on a persona matter.

“Out of the Ashes”

Chapter Eight – “Checking the Blueprints”

By: purpleu

 

 

House looked in, and saw that Bonnie James now had a full oxygen mask covering her face. She was lying on her back, which led House to believe that she had been given something to sedate her; otherwise, she wouldn't have been able to tolerate the position. He became aware of both Foreman and Wilson standing next to him.

“I don't know what to say to them anymore,” Foreman said quietly.

“Why'd she code?” Wilson asked.

“Probably the pain became too intense. We were just about to restart the Dilaudid drip when it hit. Fortunately, things were under control right away.” House was silent as he watched the scene before him. Kyle alternating between sitting and standing, but always remaining in physical contact with his wife to reassure her he was there. He kept leaning over and speaking to her. House was sure Kyle knew that she couldn't hear him, but that didn't stop him. Bonnie James was physically damaged; even more than House himself. Yet this man didn't care about her defibrillator, her medications, her trouble walking or her scars. He loved her, pure and simple, even if getting her drunk on champagne was no longer redundant. He turned to Wilson and Foreman.

“So, how long are you two going to follow me around with pooper scoopers in case I make a mistake? Or do I have to remind you that I'm already paper trained?” asked House. Wilson and Foreman exchanged looks.

“House, I'm following this case as a legitimate part of the team. I really was in the ER when she was brought in,” Foreman said. House looked to the side and shook his head.

“Don't ever bother going to Atlantic City; because you're a lousy poker player.” Foreman gave him a puzzled look. “When we had to break the news to the husband and son that bodily fluids were going to be needed to work the case, you went down there as the kindly hospital paper-pusher, not a doctor needing their cooperation to get answers. Given the choice between the two, you folded and went for the deskbound geek approach.” Foreman looked at Wilson and waved his hand in the air in frustration.

“House, I don't know what my role around here is anymore. I'm still trying to figure it out. Under different circumstances, I'd embrace it, I'd love it. But I'm finding the situation difficult, especially given whose shoes I'm trying to fill.” House nodded his head.

“Yeah, size six stilettoes with four inch heels never were your style,” he said as Wilson rolled his eyes. House caught the gesture and said, “And how do you plead?” Wilson opened his arms wide.

“Guilty of caring too damn much. I hesitated in letting you come back this soon and if I knew it was going to be this complex of a case, I would have held you back a while longer. But then you would have missed meeting up with someone.” House shot Wilson a look

“You know what they say about loose lips,” said House. Wilson nodded.

“I know, they sink ships.”

“No, they get four flat tires,” replied House. He turned to Foreman. “What do you have her on?”

“Low level dose of phenobarbital.” Foreman answered, still looking very confused over House's last comment. “We were waiting for you to show up.”

“Next time, don't.” House saw Taub, Thirteen and Chase coming down the hallway.

“Get her started back on Neurontin. Kick start it with a double dose and take her off the Jimi Hendricks Experience,” House directed the team.

“Why, what's going on?” Thirteen asked.

“Come on back inside,” House said as he walked to the patient's room, “It's story time in Dr. House's neighborhood.” House went into the room and Kyle James immediately stood and approached him.

“Please, please tell me you can do something to help her. She can't deal with this pain any more. It's killing her.”

“There is something I can do, but more importantly there is something you can do,” House said.

“Anything, just tell me and I'll do it,” James said

“Grow a pair!” House yelled. “She deals with the pain so well, because she has you to lean on. If she sees you're falling apart, she's going to give up.” Kyle James sat back down.

“I need her. I love her,” he said. “She can't give up.”

“Neither can you,” House said. Don James put his arm around his father.

“You know how you asked me before what I wanted for my birthday? I want Mom back.” Kyle reached over and hugged his son. He pushed back and took a few deep breaths.

“OK. What do we do?” he asked. House turned to his team.

“Get the Neurontin started.” Chase left the room to get the medicine from the pharmacy.

“Neurontin? Isn't that what just made her so sick?” asked James.

“Yeah, but that's because it doesn't know how to play nice with Vicodin. We're going to keep Vicodin out the sandbox for now.” After several moments, Chase walked in with the Neurontin and placed it in House's extended palm. He pulled the sedative drip and replaced it with the Neurontin which he slowly pushed into Bonnie's IV. When he had finished, he looked at Taub and said, “Do a draw. Test hypercoaguable studies and neutrophic immunoglobulin G levels.” House leaned on the bedrails, obviously agitated. “We really need an MRI for absolute confirmation.”

“You can't,” said Kyle. “They told her when the defibrillator was put in, that she could never have an MRI.”

“Yeah, but 'they' never knew she was going to be a featured story on 'Unsolved Mysteries’,” said House.

“House, what are you looking for?” asked Chase.

“Shingles,” he answered. “She had chicken pox as a child, shingles as an adult often follows. But, consistent with her tendency toward being interesting and unusual, our patient has zoster sine herpes.” House turned to Kyle. “I'm glad she wasn't awake to hear me call her unusual. She hates that.” He turned back to the others in the room.

“Shingles without a rash?” questioned Taub. House rolled his eyes.

“Yes, shingles without a rash. Even a pre-med student knows about that.” House glanced at Wilson and caught him smiling over the reference to Lydia.

“But, why did it attack her sinuses and not around the trunk of the body like shingles usually would?” Thirteen asked.

“Because it didn't feel like traveling. And it never did invade her sinuses,” House said. “When the zoster virus is dormant in the body, it stays in the nerve roots along the spine. I'm going to say that in the patient's case, most of her chicken pox lesions she had as a child weren't around the trunk of her body, but around her head. If you notice,” he said as he parted her hair. “There's some scarring from the pox part of the chicken pox here, at her temple, and in the corner of her nose and eye.”

“All on the right side,” said Chase. House nodded.

“So, it stayed dormant in the C-3 nerve root and when it became active again, it didn't bother traveling down the spine,” Taub said.

“But, why didn't it go anywhere?” Foreman asked.

“Location, location, location. It had the perfect host right where it was. Why go on a vacation when you can do a staycation,” said House. “It affected the nerve trunk here,” he said placing his hand on the upper right side of Bonnie's head and face. "It irritated all the ancillary nerve bundles include those in her sinus cavity, imitating a whopper of a sinus infection.”

“What about her mouth and throat?” asked Wilson.

“That was because she continued to take her Methotrexate, which lowered her immune system further. The mouth sores and throat irritations were always there; they were just exacerbated by the virus reactivating,” House said. “She was caught in a vicious circle.”

“But can you help me?” a muffled voice said. Bonnie James had her eyes open. Her husband and son jumped up to be nearer to her. Kyle James was holding her hand and gently brushing the stray hairs off her face. House looked up at the monitor.

“Your heart rate and BP are holding for now. I'm going to keep you on Neurontin for a few days. We’ll have confirmed the shingles and put you on an anti-viral medicine at that point. We can then switch you off Neurontin and get you back on Vicodin. You'll be in some pain from the Fibro and RA without the Vicodin, but considering how you've dealt with the shingles you can handle it.” He turned to Chase. “Start standard dosage for acyclovir and ease her back down to normal protocol for Neurontin with the next dosage.” House started to walk out of the room.

“House?” called Bonnie. “Thank you so much.” He nodded, then turned to Thirteen.

“I need to see you outside for a private conference.” Thirteen looked at the rest of the team and followed House out of the room. House walked a few feet and then turned to quickly face Thirteen. “When you choose to withhold the fact that you have a personal relationship with a patient, you endanger not only the ability of the team to properly function; you endanger the patient as well.” Thirteen looked down at the floor and shook her head.

“I'm sorry; I was afraid if you knew that Mrs. James and I knew each other, you wouldn't want me to work the case or worse, you wouldn't take it.” House looked around.

“The fact that a doctor has a relationship with a patient can affect their judgment. You've been here long enough; you've seen it firsthand. If a case is worthy of this team's time and talents, then I'll take it whether it's a stranger, a friend or relative. I don't care. I do care that the team works at their best so that we can do our jobs.” House studied Thirteen for a second. “Go back to her.” Thirteen took a few steps and turned to House.

“How did you know?”

“Other than your ex, your teammates, and Wilson, the only people who know your first name, would be me and someone who knows you from outside the hospital. Mrs. James referred to you as Remy. I'm going to guess that she's related in some way to your neighbor you were talking about earlier in the day.” Thirteen nodded.

“He was her brother. Mrs. James was ten years younger than him and had left for college by the time everything hit with my mother.” Thirteen started to turn toward Bonnie James' room, hesitated, then turned back to House. “Can I ask you something? Completely off topic?” House looked around to avoid making eye contact with her. “If I asked you, would you… ”

“Yes.” Thirteen looked startled.

“I didn't even ask the question,” she said. House fidgeted with his cane.

“When the time comes, I won't allow you to suffer in pain needlessly. You say the word, I'll help end the pain for you.” House finally made eye contact and could see tears welling up in Thirteen's eyes.

“Really?” she asked. House held up the index finger on his left hand.

“Scout's honor,” he said. Thirteen narrowed her eyes and gave him a look.

“You were never a Boy Scout.”

“I told that group of Girls Scouts I met when I was hiking as a kid that I was. I earned a lot of merit badges that day,” he said with a smirk. Thirteen widened her eyes and threw her hands up in the air. She once again started to walk away, then stopped. She turned to look at House.

“Thank you.” House nodded and watched as Thirteen walked back into Bonnie James' room. Before the door could close, Chase and Taub emerged carrying a phlebotomy tray. House could see that the vials were empty.

“What's going on?” he called out as he approached them.

“We can't draw the blood. Her veins are collapsing. She says she's always had rolling veins, but this is going beyond that,” said Chase.

“Yeah, these aren't rolling; they're running away,” noted Taub. House rested his elbows on the edge of the nurses' station. He tapped his cane against the bottom of the counter as he pondered what to do next. Thirteen came out of the room.

“Her IV in the left arm is starting to infiltrate. It looks like the arterial line in her right is still clear,” she said.

“For now,” said House. “Let's see what kind of shape her diabetic feet are in.”

“Putting an IV in a diabetic's foot is not usually recommended,” said Foreman walking back to the group with Wilson.

“No, but this isn't your usual kind of patient. We've got to rehydrate her and get her veins to stop being rude by not letting us in. Start a small bore needle on each foot. Use a butterfly and find something on the back of her hands, her fingers or her toes even; get the blood you need for the tests,” instructed House. “And get the other IV out before it completely screws up her arm.”

“Immunoglobulin tests being the priority in case we can't pull a full draw?” asked Taub.

“No, poke her multiple times if you have to so we can get enough for both tests.”

“House, you're turning her into a pin cushion,” protested Wilson.

“She's been through worse. Since we can't do the MRI to confirm the inflammation at C-3, we need the blood work to prove that we're right about the type of inflammation.” Wilson thought for a second.

“What about placing a subclavian line like we do with a chemo port?” he asked.

“That's no good; in case we have to do CPR or paddle her, it would be in the way,” Thirteen said. House turned and looked at the James family.

“I'm going to suggest that father and son make another trip to the cafeteria. You're not going to want them anywhere near the room when you start treating mom like a voodoo doll.” House started to walk toward Bonnie's room.

“Wait… House, you're going to tell them?” asked Foreman. House turned with his hand on the sliding door.

“Yeah, I thought I'd see what it felt like to be an inert administrator rather than a pro-active doctor.” House slid the door open and walked in.

“Hello again one and all. Since your veins are collapsing faster than a Ponzi scheme, we're going to have to try a few of the more unusual spots to get some blood to confirm we're treating you properly. You two,” House said looking at Kyle and Don. “Are going to be in the way if you stay here. So, I would suggest you pay yet another visit to our lovely dinning facility. Dr. Foreman will be glad to keep you company. I'll have him paged when the coast is clear.”

“Dr. House, do they really have to go?” asked Bonnie. House was about to answer when Kyle spoke up.

“Babe, you'll be fine. Let me go get Don something to eat before he starts gnawing on his own hand.” Bonnie started to laugh.

“Oh… oh, don't do that. Don't make me laugh. That still hurts,” she said. Kyle smiled, leaned over and gave her a kiss on her cheek.

“I'm so happy to see you laugh again.” He turned to his son. “Come on; let's let the docs do their job.” Don nodded, leaned over and kissed his mother.

“See you later, Mom.” Kyle and Don filed past House out to the hallway and House followed close behind. Once out in the hall, House turned to Kyle.

“You must be very fertile.” He looked at House, puzzled. “You grew that pair we spoke about really fast.” Kyle James smiled weakly.

“I had to. It was the only way to get out of there and let you do your job.” House nodded and turned to Foreman.

“Dr. Foreman, I told Mr. James that you would go with him down to the cafeteria; keep them company, answer any questions, and make sure the hospital administration is handling things well.” Foreman looked startled.

“I think I'd be of better use up here assisting with things,” said Foreman.

“Oh, no… you go with them. My team will handle things here.” Foreman was about to speak when Wilson interrupted.

“I need to speak to Dr. House about a few things,” Wilson said. “I'd appreciate it if you'd handle this.” Foreman let out a sigh.

“If Dr. Foreman is needed up here for my wife, we can just go downstairs by ourselves. Although I know Don wanted to ask some questions of one of you,” Kyle said.

“What about?” asked House.

“Becoming a doctor. I've got the grades and SAT scores to make a couple of the really good pre-med programs. I just wanted to talk to someone from diagnostics because I think I'd want to make that my specialty,” said Don. “I've even been taking notes on Mom's case trying to figure it out. I thought it sounded like shingles from things I was looking up, but without the rash, it didn't make any sense.” House gave a slight smile.

“Remember to look for zebras,” he said. He looked at Foreman who was also smiling.

“Come on; I'll be glad to answer your questions.” Foreman led Kyle and Don to the elevators. House turned to the team.

“Page him when she's settled back in.” Chase, Taub and Thirteen all nodded. Taub picked up the phlebotomy tray and the team walked back into Bonnies James' room. House turned to Wilson. He could clearly see that Wilson was overwhelmed, playing the part of doctor and interim dean.

“So,” said House. “How do you like being part of the diagnostics team?”

“I'm not part of your team. I was just trying to help.” House twirled his cane between his palms as he turned his back to the counter and watched his team try to do what was needed to help Bonnie. He could hear her crying out, but under the circumstances, she was relatively quiet.

“You made a more concrete suggestion than any of them did. Foreman told me what couldn't be done and the rest of them stood there like lambs to the slaughter. If oncology and ass-kissing get to be boring let me know.” House started to walk over to the elevators with Wilson following him.

“Where are you headed?” Wilson asked.

“To where the finest of rodents dine.”

“The cafeteria? You're still hungry?” House pushed the button to call for the elevator.

“Actually, I never did get to eat much. Small talk led to bigger things and the next thing I know, I'm back at Potentially Perturbing Theories Hospital. I was … ” The sound of Wilson's phone interrupted House. Wilson looked at his phone.

“OK, very funny. Why are you calling me?” he asked.

“I'm not,” House said. He started patting his pockets. “Where's my phone?” Wilson shrugged.

“I'll find out. Hello?”

“Hello, James? It's Lydia Strohman, Greg's frie…girlfriend.” Wilson's eyes opened wide at the sound of her voice.

“Hello, Lydia. You didn't have to clarify things; I know exactly who you are.” House looked at Wilson.

“Give me the phone,” he said reaching for it.

“No. Why should I? She wants to talk to me.”

“She doesn't want to talk to you. It's me she wants.”

“How do you know?”

“Um… hello?” said Lydia “Greg dropped his phone in my car and I just want to return it to him.” Wilson glanced over at House with a knowing look.

“Oh, he ‘dropped’ the phone in your car, did he?” Wilson winked at him. “Well, we'll be right down so he can pick it up.” House vigorously shook his head from side to side and pointed to himself.

“James, could you please let Greg come down by himself. I would like a moment with him.”

"Oh… sure… of course. I understand. I'll see you soon.” Wilson looked crestfallen as he ended the call. “She wants just you to come down. She wants a moment with you.” House smiled.

“Sounds better than anything they're serving in the slop shop.” He saw the disappointed look on Wilson's face. “Do me a favor; deal with the fact that she wants what I’ve got; that you have no chance with her. I'm not going to be able to take it if every time she chooses me over you, you're going to act like a reject from ‘The Bachelorette.’”

“House, I have no problem with the fact that you were a lucky SOB and got to meet someone like her. I just enjoyed talking to her for the little bit that she was here. She's a lovely, lovely lady.” House rolled his eyes.

“Will you please stop saying that?”

“Saying what?”

“That she's a lovely lady. It makes me uncomfortable. Like you're hitting on her in absencia.” The elevator doors opened and House stepped in.

“Okay," said Wilson putting up his hands. “I'll stop saying it.”

“Why? She's a lovely lady,” said House as the elevator doors closed. Wilson was about to respond, but realized it was pointless.


	9. "Reaching the Pinnacle"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While returning House's cell phone to him, Lydia reveals secrets from her past that may effect their newfound relationship. The team makes some progress with the patient.

“Out of the Ashes”

Chapter Nine – “Reaching the Pinnacle”

By: purpleu

 

 

As soon as the elevator doors opened, House walked out and scanned the area for Lydia; he spotted her standing near the left front window in the lobby. He felt the corners of his mouth upturn as he made his way over to her. So, this is what it feels like to have some measure of happiness. He had felt it once or twice before in the past; he certainly had it with Stacy, and he had imagined it with Cuddy. But this… was different. He wasn't sure if it was the culmination of all he had been through in recent years, if it had changed his perspective, or if it was something special about Lydia herself. People don't change had always been his mantra. Yet Lydia had a good point; what he'd been through with his leg had made him harder, more bitter, more cynical; it changed him. What's to say he couldn't change again? After all, Pavlov worked with his dog and changed its response to a certain stimulus. Yet, when all was said and done, the dog still lifted his leg to pee and licked himself… well because he could. Bottom line… it was still a dog. House arrived where Lydia was standing and reached out to touch her arm.

“Hey. You got any used cell phones?” he joked. But his humor quickly faded as Lydia turned to him. She was clearly upset, on the verge of tears. Startled, House quickly said, “What wrong?” She shook her head back and forth.

“Nothing. I'm being stupid, I'm being a fool. Here's your phone.” She handed the phone to him and stood there with her head down refusing to look at him. House was looking back and forth between the phone and Lydia, completely confused.

“Look, I'm really out of practice with this whole boyfriend thing and I don't know that I was even very good at it when I was dealing with it on a regular basis. The problem is, the manual guys get about women is written in Ancient Mesopotamian Hieroglyphics and the ink has run. So, if you could clue me in, I'd be grateful.” Lydia couldn't help but laugh, yet it also set off a flow of tears.

“You had a call while I had the phone. I looked at the caller ID because I thought it was you looking for the phone. I didn't answer it.” House nodded and looked at the phone. “I...I have to go,” said Lydia rushing past House and heading out the door. House quickly looked up from his phone to call out for her, but the name on the screen caught his eye; Bambi Forest. The woman he had an 'appointment' with tonight. House didn't know why she was calling; he had already left her a message cancelling the arrangement. He looked up and realized that Lydia was almost to her car; she had parked in House's spot once again. He walked as fast as he could and caught up with her as she was opening the car door.

“She's not a girlfriend. You're the only one on a short list of candidates willing to put up with me; the other being Wilson.” Once again, Lydia couldn't help but laugh.

“I told you… I'm just being stupid,” she said as she wiped her eyes. House shook his head.

“Except for falling in love with the guy voted least likely to have a successful personal relationship, I can't imagine anything you'd be stupid about.” House tried to get her to look at him, but she avoided his gaze. “There are some benches round the side of the building; they’re a little more private than out here. It's going to take some time for my team to get test results. And when they do get them, they can call me,” said House holding up his phone. Lydia glanced at House and nodded.

“Alright; the realtor pushed our appointment back to six-thirty, so I have some time.” Lydia let House take her hand to lead her to the benches. House noticed that while he held her hand firmly, she did not return the gesture. He let out a small sigh. Uncharted territory usually intrigued House; this actually scared him. They sat down on the bench; Lydia stared down at her hands, silent except for deep breaths she let out to control her emotions.

“I'm good at figuring out puzzles… I mean really good,” said House. “But I need a few pieces to start things off.”

“Well, I figured out the name on the phone is not your mother,” she said wryly. House tried to smile and reached over for her hand. Lydia raised her eyes to meet his. “She's a prostitute, isn't she? Those things you told me about from your coma, about the hookers… they were real experiences or fantasies of yours, weren't they?” She spoke accusingly, something that took House by surprise. “You are obviously accustomed to a certain type of woman and I…I can't even begin to compete with that.” He sat there, shaking his head back and forth with his mouth hanging open.

“Look… I've been seeing a girl who is a massage therapist… with benefits. It started two months before the accident. I got some relief from the pain with her; from which part of the therapy, I don't know. I called her after I saw you this morning and I left her a message that I didn't need her services anymore.” House looked at Lydia; even with her eyes red from crying and smears of mascara under them, she still looked beautiful. She took a deep breath to steady herself before she began to speak.

“These women, they do what they do for a living and they're very good at it. I… ” She shuddered as she tried to not cry. “It was never real for me, anywhere in here,” she said pointing at herself. “Until I was with you.”

“What are you saying? I think the Anglo-Kraut thing is rearing its ugly head again.” he said. Lydia wiped away tears with the back of her hand.

“My parents were very strict with me. They… kept me on a very short leash, I guess you'd say. Being a part of the diplomatic corps, security was very tight, so there was very little chance to slip away and be a wild child. I lived at home when I went to college, even though it was almost a half an hour's trip one way. And of course, I was always driven. I was only allowed to stay after classes for activities that involved the pre-med honor society; but even then, there was always a car waiting for me when the meetings were over.”

“Couldn't you say you were going to the meeting and then gone off to work on your good-time girl persona?” House asked. Lydia shook her head.

“My father's best friend had a son who was also a pre-med student at Hopkins. He was a year older than me and always kept his eye on… ”

“Wait!” interrupted House. “Did you say Hopkins… as in Johns Hopkins University Pre-Med program?” Lydia managed a little smile.

“Yes. I was about to start my last semester, and I was accepted to the Hopkins medical school when my parents had a car accident. It was one of the few times I wasn't in the car with them.” House stared at her blankly.

“You went to Hopkins pre-med and were about to start med school there. I'm impressed.”

“Thank you. When I was trying to find you on the internet, I read some information that said you went there for a time also. Although I think it was several years before me.”

“Yeah, a few. You know, this isn't really fair. You obviously know my age, but I don't know yours. I know it's rude to ask a woman, but I think it's considered fair sport if I suggest that you tell me. A slight difference, but it absolves me from committing a social faux pas.” Lydia bit her lip as she smiled, and looked at House. He put his arm around her and gave her a kiss. “Are you OK?” Lydia nodded.

“Yes. I'm sorry. I hadn't planned on talking to you about this just yet and it's caught me by surprise.” Lydia looked at House. “By the way, I'm forty-two.”

“Damn, I'm good,” said House. “Hit it right on the head. So, you were kept prisoner by your parents and they had a wing man lurking in every dark corner.”

“It seemed that way. I suppose in later years if I had looked hard enough, I could have found a way out. But with my parents being so badly injured, I had to oversee their care. Even though my father was in the diplomatic corps, it was still basic medical coverage, nothing special. Walter, the boy from school kept coming around in the name of being helpful, but I found out that my father had asked his friend to have Walter take care of me and hoped that it would lead to marriage.”

“Did it?”

“No, but he hung around for three years. He…he was… "

“Your first.” finished House. Lydia nodded.

"Yes. My first boyfriend, and… ” Lydia looked uncomfortable. “My first attempt at physical contact with a member of the opposite sex. The problem was Walter was gay, but never had the nerve to come out to his parents or anyone else; I was the only one who knew and he only told me after a few failed attempts at sex. I was very grateful to him, as a friend, for trying to help with my parents and he was very sweet; but even if he wasn’t gay, there was no real emotional sparks between us. I broke it off with him after my father died; I felt it wasn’t fair to him to live a lie anymore. I took care of my mother for four years after that with some help from healthcare aides and Annie, God bless her.” Lydia looked at House. “I could never leave my mother alone at night or even for an extended time during the day. I found work doing medical coding and transcriptions at home to keep me sane. I had no social life; she complained if I had company over. It was horrible.” They had both been sitting forward on the bench, but now House gently leaned Lydia backward and rested her back against him. He could feel her shaking from the release of the torrents of frustration, anger, hurt and pain. Leaning down, House softly kissed the top of her head several times.

“I never would have it in me to do what you did. I'm not that selfless,” House said. “How long after your mother died did Annie zip her lip?”

“Seven months. I was still trying to settle my mother's estate when… everything came crashing down. I lost my father, my mother and it seemed like I lost my best friend.”

“And then you and you ex-husband started to hook up?” Lydia shrugged.

“A little less than a year after Annie had to be institutionalized, we just started spending so much time together that things flowed one into another.” She spread her hands apart. “The next thing, we were engaged and then married. I never felt anything toward him in a romantic way. He was important to Annie, so I always cared about him; I wished him well, but…. I felt nothing.” House could see that Lydia was trying to hold back tears. “This is so hard for me to say, I sound so… ” She looked at House. “I needed a glass of wine or two to relax before I could… participate in having sex. I didn’t get drunk by any means, but I needed it to numb me. I didn't want him to touch me like that, but… ” House closed his eyes. The puzzle pieces were starting to fall into place.

“You must have run up quite a tab at the local liquor store.” House said.

“I didn't. He wasn't very… demanding as far as sex went; I guess because it was as distasteful for him as it was for me. Plus, he had women on the side both here and in Arizona.” Lydia looked at House and didn't how to gauge the look in his eyes. He began to shake his head.

“You know, you're making this really difficult for me,” House said. “This guy was obviously a mindless jerk; it negates my right to subject him to some form of ancient Chinese torture. And I know quite a few from the time I spent there.” Lydia tried not to laugh, but it was useless. She leaned toward him and placed her head on House's shoulder. He twirled his cane in one hand, staring at the handle. “So boyfriend/lover number one proves to be an unsuccessful venture; relationship number two crashes and burns in the same manner as the Hindenburg. An appropriate analogy given who's involved and where this is taking place.” He looked at Lydia and saw she had a slight smile. “And then there's bachelor number three, yours truly. Wow, you really know how to pick 'em. You're probably going to say something like you've never been happier, but given the past, I don't have a hell of a lot to try to live up to.” He knew what he was going to say next would hurt, but it had to be brought out in the open. “The whole thing bothering you about the prostitutes goes back in your family history.” Lydia picked her head up and looked at House. “And since you wouldn't care whether your boyfriend or your ex dabbled with Lady Marmalades, I'm going to say it goes back to your father.” Lydia was shocked.

“My God, you are good at puzzles.”

“It wasn't hard to figure out. You had no great love in your life that would have wounded you; the only other male who had any influence over you was your dad. He dominated and oversaw all your actions and activities through your childhood and adulthood, although at the end, it was literally by accident. He was in a position of power and he made use of that position.” House looked at Lydia. “Either your mother finally caught on and confronted him or she dealt with it as long as she could and just exploded.” Lydia looked away from House.

“She knew and just dealt with it. But, then one girl became a favorite for whatever reason and my mother found out. They had a horrible fight in the living room late one night. She begged him to give up hookers, but he refused. He said they did things for him that he wouldn't expect her to do.” Lydia started to fumble in her purse for a tissue to clean up her face. “I believe it's called Madonna/Whore Syndrome.” She pulled out a Kleenex and began to dab at her eyes. House looked thoughtful for a moment.

“Madonna/Whore Syndrome. Wasn't that the name of her last concert tour?” Lydia chuckled and shook her head. She snuggled up against House and buried her face in his neck.

"Please be serious," she begged. House nodded his assent.

“OK. I know what Madonna/Whore Syndrome is. A guy idealizes his wife so much, he can't get it on with her, but has no problem with some one less than perfect like a hooker.” He could feel Lydia nodded her head against him. “And when you saw the name on my phone and realized it wasn't my Great-Aunt Sophie, it not only brought back bad memories, but you were afraid I had some hang-up about hookers like your father did.” He looked down at the top of her head. “And you're afraid since you haven't had a slew of lovers in the past that you're going to somehow pale in comparison to these hookers.” She again nodded.

“I'm…I'm just afraid… ” Lydia began to say.

“Don't be. Hookers are paid by guys to moan and groan at the right times, say words that the guy wants to hear and make a man think he's more of a man than he really is able to be.” House was staring at the ground. The hand that wasn't holding Lydia had dropped down to his leg “You know damn well, it's all a lie that you bought and paid for and for those few moments, you're made to think that on some level, you've managed to make a woman happy.” Lydia pulled her head away from House's neck and looked up at him.

“I have no complaints.” House looked at her with gratitude.

“You had a few minutes in a dimly lit room on a chair. Give it more time and a bigger workspace like a bed or on the floor in front of a roaring fire and you'll can expect Cirque de Solei.” Lydia let out a little laugh. “A hooker strokes a guy's ego as long as there's a nice crisp hundred involved. They come. They go. No attachments. I will admit, there were many times I had them come by just for company, just to have someone to talk to.” He looked around. “You’ve… managed to change the way I think about myself. I always said I was better off alone, but I was wrong; I'm better with you.” Lydia had tears in her eyes as she reached up and slowly brushed he fingers down the length of House's face. “I don’t believe in the religious concept of a soul; but for lack of a better word, you’ve convinced me that I actually may have one.” The tears started gently rolling down Lydia's face.

“I just want us to be together. I know you're concerned that something's going to get screwed up. I understand that. We are two broken people in need of a lot of fixing. But, you can't fix things by yourself; you need another person, another perspective, no matter how solitary your nature may be.” Her fingers continued down his neck to the open collar of his shirt. “We can make this work. We have enough in common that we are comfortable with each other; and we have just enough differences to keep things interesting.” House smiled.

“I can go with that line of thinking.” House pulled Lydia to him and gave her a long kiss. He was about to go back in for another, when Lydia's phone rang. She quickly pulled away; he gave her a disappointed look.

“It might be the realtor,” she explained.

“You don't need them; move in with me,” House said. Lydia looked at him skeptically.

“With my two children and Annie?” she asked. House hesitated.

“Answer the phone,” he said. It turned out to be perfect timing, for a second later, House's phone began to ring. He pulled it out of his pocket and saw it was Taub. He stood up and walked several feet away from the bench.

“What have you got, oh short and impotent one?”

“Immunoglobulin G levels are sky high. Hypercoaguable studies were at the high end of normal. It's shingles without a rash.”

“Why do you still sound so surprised?” asked House. “I told you a second or third year med student could figure that out.” House looked over at Lydia with admiration. He got so caught up in watching Lydia’s reaction to what her caller was saying, that he ignored Taub for a moment.

“House? Are you there?” House took the phone away from his ear and scowled at it.

“No,” House shouted into the phone. “I have been kidnapped by aliens and am currently on my way to Andelusia-153 in a galaxy far, far away. However, I can leave you the following instructions. Keep the patient on the previous dosages of Neurontin and acyclovir. Start the patient on clear liquids and note tolerance for same on the chart. I will be returning to my home galaxy shortly. Night Tripper, out.” House ended the call, and dropped the phone back into his pocket. He looked over at Lydia and saw that she was staring at him with her arms folded; she was laughing.

“What was that?” she asked. House walked back over to the bench and sat down.

“A needless interruption from a mindless individual.”

“A member of your team giving you test results.” House nodded.

“Same difference.” Lydia smiled. He was about to ask if her call was from the realtor, when his phone rang again. This time, it was Wilson. He rolled his eyes and picked up the call.

“Yes, I have my phone back,” said House. “No, I am not in the cafeteria. Yes, everything is fine with Lydia, and no, I do not want to get Chinese for dinner tonight.” There was silence for a moment on the other end.

“Wow… wow. Well, I guess that about covers everything then. You do know you have unlimited minutes and didn’t have to use such brevity,” said Wilson.

“Yes, except when I'm talking to you. Then I try to keep things as abbreviated as possible.” Lydia looked at House disapprovingly.

“Be nice to James,” she said.

“I am. You should hear how I talk to him when I'm not being nice.”

“Is Lydia there with you now?” Wilson asked. House shook his head.

“No, it's my other girlfriend with a German accent.”

“Tell her I said hello. Oh… Kyle James is asking for you.”

“Can't you just tell him that I suddenly became aphasic?” House heard Wilson sigh.

“House, please just go talk to him and be civil about it. I have enough headaches right now. Please?” House made a face.

“OK; I'll go against my true nature and be nice.” Wilson breathed a sigh of relief.

“Thank you.” House ended the call and looked at Lydia.

“See what I have to put up with from him? He asks me to do these horrible and degrading things like be nice. What kind of friend asks you to do that?” Lydia shook her head.

“You should go inside and talk to your patient. Maybe she just needs some reassurance.”

“It's not the patient; it's her husband who wants to talk. This is not going to be fun.” Lydia stood up and held her hand out to him. He reluctantly took a hold of her outstretched palm, stood up, and began to walk.

“You know, you really should be a little kinder to James. He seems very nice and he's a very good friend,” Lydia said.

“The problem is that Wilson's too nice. That's why he has three ex-wives. He has the wrong type of personality to be a doctor, never mind an oncologist.”

“I was wondering what his specialty was. I think it suits him very well.” House smirked.

“Only if you're a masochist.” House turned to Lydia. “What was your specialty going to be?” She smiled.

“Diagnostics.” House gave a little laugh.

“No, seriously.”

“I am serious,” she said as they arrived at her car. “I was considering cardiology or endocrinology; but then I attended a lecture this young doctor was giving at Georgetown Medical School about the benefits of deduction and puzzle solving in reference to difficult patient cases. He said that you have to look beyond the obvious and make connections with deeper things. I believe he said something about looking for zebras.” Lydia smiled as she twirled her keys in between her fingers. The look on House's face was priceless.

“I gave that lecture because I was trying to make the case to several hospitals that they needed a Diagnostics department. Of course, none of them listened.”

“Eventually one did,” Lydia said looking at the hospital. “And I know that many hospitals have them now.” House looked at her. 

“I can't believe you saw me at Georgetown.”

“I not only saw you, I spoke to you.” House's eyes widened. “I approached you after you spoke and asked you a few questions about the concept of a differential diagnosis. And then you asked me out for a drink. I was about to say yes and work on my good-time girl persona with you, but my father pulled me away. When I saw you at Mayfield, I couldn't believe it. I wanted to tell you that we had met before, but I didn't think it was appropriate.” House was stunned.

“I… I remember you now; you were the only one who asked anything intelligent after I spoke. And you were the prettiest one in the place.”

“You remember me? Really?” House smirked.

“Let’s face it… there are a limited number of redheads in this world, never mind one that combines brains and beauty. And no offense,” he said. “But I really hate your dad right now; I could have been your first.” Lydia smiled and moved closer toward House until their bodies were touching.

“It's OK. As long as you're my last.” House rested his cane against the car and wrapped Lydia in his arms and kissed her gently.

“I've got to be careful,” he said, pulling back away from her slightly.

“Why? Afraid James may see us?”

“Nope. Afraid I'll start something I can't finish right now.”

“Hmm. You have to see your patient's husband.” House winced.

“Ouch. That just ruined the lovely mood.” He saw the sparkle back in Lydia's eyes and had to smile. "I usually have a lot of trouble saying this, never mind as frequently as I’ve done in the past few hours, but you make it seem so natural, so easy; I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Lydia replied. She opened the car door, sat down and began buckling her seat belt. “I'll give you a call later so we can pick up your motorcycle and get something to eat.”

“And other things,” said House as he closed the door. Lydia started the car and put the window down.

“I'm not going to be able to leave unless you move that.” She pointed to House's cane which he rested against the car.

“Ah, you've caught on to my nefarious and secret plan,” House said resting his hands on the open window frame.

“Greg, I have to leave.”

“Yeah… I guess you need to find a place you can call home.” Lydia placed her hand on his.

“I already have.” House smiled, leaned in and gave her a kiss. He grabbed his cane, let her back the car out of the spot and pull away. House turned, and headed for the doors of the building. He paused to press a button on his phone. He put it to his ear, and finally heard the party he called pick up.

“Bambi? This is Night Tripper. Yeah. Do me a favor. Lose my number. Permanently. Yeah… I'm really sure.” 

House ended the call, then pressed a series of buttons, ending with “delete.” He put the phone in his pocket, and with a smile, went to go see Kyle James.


	10. "No Vacancy"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Receiving bad news from Foreman about the financial state of the hospital, and how it could effect the Diagnostics Department, temporarily ruins House's good mood; however, it somewhat improves as he makes a final visit to see his patient and her family. When House announces that he won't be in work for the rest of the week, his team corners him, and he finds out they know about Lydia, thanks to Wilson.

“Out of the Ashes”

Chapter Ten – “No Vacancy”

By: purpleu

 

 

House was making his way to the elevators in a very good mood. He might even be able to put up with Kyle James at this point. Might being the operative word; but any illusion of that was quickly shattered by the sound of Foreman's voice.

“House!” House rolled his eyes, pushed the elevator button, then turned to face Foreman.

“I've already been taken out to the proverbial wood shed. I'm going to do my best impression of Pollyanna and make the husband think he's visiting Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm.” The doors opened and House walked inside; he quickly realized that Foreman had entered the car with him. “What's the matter? Not sugary enough for you? Oops! I forgot our patient is a diabetic.” Foreman sighed.

“House, we have a problem. Potentially a big problem and I wanted to make you aware of it right away. Wilson and I were just in a meeting with some of the board members and the accountants; It turns out the hospital has been losing money over the last few years. We’re not sure how Cuddy kept that fact hidden from everyone, but it’s true. The expansion of the heart catheterization lab took millions, the clinic takes a lot of money… ” 

“Maybe they should think about getting rid the damn clinic. It was Cuddy's baby more than her own kid was. It's nothing more than an ER light with kids coming in with marbles up their noses and old men using Poly-Grip where Preparation-H should go.” Foreman nodded in agreement.

“I know, but by keeping low level problems out of the ER we've kept and enhanced our level one trauma center rating; the entire hospital has a level one rating thanks to the way things are set up. And that attracts a lot of attention… the good kind,” said Foreman. “There are a couple of areas they want to initiate cut backs in. One, they want to eliminate the hospice program.” House looked at Foreman, then down at the floor.

“Wilson started the hospice center. How emotional did he get when he ripped the head honchos a new one?” The elevator doors opened and Foreman pulled House to the right, out of view of Bonnie's room so the James family and the team couldn't see them.

“He was clearly upset, but not nearly as upset as he was at one of the other topics.” House looked at Foreman. “They're questioning diagnostics; at the very least, the size of the department. When you were out on medical leave, Wilson and I were pulled right away into doing the administrative crap. The department essentially ran with three doctors. They want to know why that can't happen all the time. One even said, if House is that good, why does he need anyone else? The other departments could just run the tests, give you the results, and you'll solve the cases on your own.” House was agitated and began to pace back and forth, looking around the ward.

“Why go after diagnostics? They've never questioned the need for the team before. Who pissed in their Corn Flakes?”

“I don't know,” said Foreman. “In the past, Cuddy always spoke up in the department's defense and deflected the issue.” House stopped pacing and looked at him.

“So all this is happening just because Cuddy isn't here to play cheerleader for us? Maybe we can all take a field trip down to Garden State Rehab and visit so she can wave her pom-poms for everyone and remind them how much in donations diagnostics generates.”

“House, take it easy. Wilson did a great job of supporting the department. He pointed out to them that if they tried to get you to cut staff, they might wind up losing the whole department; that there are plenty of hospitals around who would love to get their hands on you and the team, not to mention the endowments that would walk away with you. Luckily, the accounts backed him up with numbers, and it seemed to quiet them down somewhat. Besides, there were only five of the board members at the meeting; three were for the cuts and two weren't.” House grimaced.

“It's still a majority,” he said disgustedly. Foreman nodded in concession to House's comment.

“It's not anything that's going to happen right away, but the subject has been brought up. I thought maybe we should mention this to the rest of the team so they know what's going on.”

“And by ‘we’ of course, you mean me.” Foreman rolled his eyes and spread his arms open, gesturing toward House.

“Yes, you. If you want we… or you to be more exact, can tell the others, and we can sit down and start talking about this. Maybe tonight. The sooner we address it, the more strongly we can make our arguments when the time comes.” House didn't answer. “So, do you think that's a good idea?” House stopped walking.

“No. I'm busy tonight.”

“You're busy?” asked Foreman. “With something more important than the department?” House looked into Bonnie's room and saw Kyle leaning over to give his wife a kiss. A smile slowly crept over House's face; for the first time in his life, he said the right answer.

“Yeah, I am.” House began walking again toward Bonnie's room with Foreman following close behind. House slid open the door.

“Greetings,” he said with a certain amount of false cheerfulness. “How is my unique and interesting patient doing?” Bonnie James gave him a dirty look.

“You know I hate those two words more than anything,” she said.

“Yeah, but I just wanted to see if you were feisty and bubbly enough to complain.” Bonnie tried to smile.

“I'm always feisty,” she said. House walked over to where Kyle and Don were standing.

“Yeah, you kept bugging me to make you better.” He looked at Kyle and Don. “What a ridiculous request to make of a doctor.” He looked up at the monitor and frowned. “This thing must not be working right.”

“Why do you say that?” Chase asked. House squinted at the monitor.

“All her readings are normal,” remarked House.

“Where are your glasses?” House looked at Bonnie.

“What makes you think I wear glasses?”

“You were squinting at the monitor. As a doctor you ought to know that not using glasses when they've been prescribed for you, is the fastest way to further weaken your eyesight.” House looked at Kyle and Don.

“I take it her nickname at home is Mother Hen,” he said.

“Among others,” said Don. Kyle gave his son a nudge in the arm and a glaring look.

“Sorry, Mom.” House was doing his best not to smile.

“I thank you for your concern, Mama Cluck. But the monitor is fuzzy, not me.” Bonnie looked chagrined.

“Oh… sorry.” House turned to Don.

“This,” he said gesturing to Bonnie. “Is a perfect example of be careful what you wish for. You got your mom back.” Don unconsciously assumed the demeanor of a shy little kid as he leaned over to hug his mother.

“I'll take her.” House noticed that Bonnie winced as her son hugged her.

“What hurts?” he asked. Don moved away as House moved in to the side of the bed.

“The bed sores. I'm feeling more alert than I have in a while and I guess I'm just taking note of them.” House nodded and handed Don his cane. Grabbing him by the shoulders, he spun him around to face the wall away from his mother's bed.

“Stay like that. At least until I tell you to move.” House looked at Bonnie. “Think you can help me roll over this time without the use of a crane? I hope so, 'cause a crane is my least favorite thing at this point in my life.” House's team couldn't help but smile.

“I think I can grab the bed rail… ” She did, but Bonnie's hand slipped off. “I'm sorry. I still feel so weak.”

“Honey, you haven't eaten right in weeks. You need time to get back to normal,” Kyle said. House turned to Kyle.

“Go around to the other side and let her grab on to you. I'm sure you're more of an incentive to hold on to than the bed rail.” Kyle walked around the bed. Bonnie reached over and grabbed his arm. “On the count of three. One, two, seven.” House pulled the draw sheet and easily rolled Bonnie over. He pulled up her gown and took a look at the sores. “This is not a pretty sight.” Thirteen, Chase and Taub all moved over to the bed to take a look.

“She's at stage two,” commented Thirteen.

“Borderline three on some of them,” noted Chase. House nodded.

“Considering she’s a diabetic, arrange for a consult with Wound Care. Do not let them change her meds. Only topical treatment allowed. If they have a problem with it, tell them to talk to Foreman or Wilson. Ready to turn back to the dark side?” House said addressing Bonnie.

“Yes, Lord Vader,” she replied. Bonnie gently rolled onto her back with her husband's help. She could see House was giving her a strange look.

“‘Star Wars’ fan big time are you,” he said doing his best Yoda.

“My first date with my first boyfriend was seeing that movie. It's always been a favorite of mine.” House nodded as he pulled the covers up. He turned to Don and took his cane out of Don's hands. House looked at Taub.

“Where does she stand with nutrition?”

"I ordered solid foods for her dinner. Thirteen got her a little something from the cafeteria, since she did well with the clear liquids at lunch, and was still hungry. Her blood sugars were stable, so it seemed the best approach.” House turned and looked at Thirteen disapprovingly.

“How many times have I told you not to get the patients anything from the cafeteria? We're trying to cure them, not kill them.” Thirteen smiled.

“I didn't think a container of strawberry yogurt would be too deadly.” Bonnie nodded.

“Deadly or not, it tasted great. I’m getting my appetite back.”

“Good,” said House. “Because the nutrition supplements we're going to order for you aren't going to taste like that. Write an order to dietary to put a supplement on each tray she gets,” he said to Taub.

“And I’ll make sure to tell them it has to be sugar-free,” Taub replied. House rolled his eyes.

“No, you won’t tell them that. We’re doctors, not nutrition Gestapos. Besides, it should already be noted in her chart what her dietary restrictions are,” House said sounding annoyed.

“Um, can I turn around now?” It was Don who spoke; while he took his cane, House failed to give the at ease command.

“Why are you still standing there like that?” asked his mother.

“Because Dr. House told me not to move until he said it was OK.”

“And you listened?” said House as he spun Don around to face the room again. “Look me up when you get your medical license. As opposed to what I'm stuck with, I could use someone like you on my team.” House saw the disapproving looks from the team and chose to ignore them.

“Dr. House, I wanted to talk to you,” said Kyle.

“So I've been warned,” said House. Kyle put his head down and took a deep breath.

“To say I've been obnoxious and overbearing during all this is beyond an understatement,” he said picking up his head. He looked at House. “Very soon after I met Bonnie, I realized that I could never picture my life without her in it. I was not in a very good place in my life when we met; actually I was never in a very good place. If I hadn't met her, I wouldn't be here right now. She saved my life.” He reached over and took Bonnie's hand.

“I think she can say the same thing about you,” noted Thirteen. “How long have you been married now?”

“Twenty-three years. Believe me, no one thought it would last,” said Bonnie.

“Why?” asked Foreman. Kyle and Bonnie both laughed.

“Well, her record collection consisted of Billy Joel, Barbra Streisand and other pop artists. Mine were people like Iggy Pop and the Dead Kennedys. And that was only the start of topics on which we diverged.”

“Ouch,” said Taub.

“So, how… ” asked Chase.

“Someone once said that love isn't about looking at each other, but it’s looking outward in the same direction. We've basically been looking in the same direction for all these years. Having differences kept us on our toes,” Bonnie said.

“You're enough alike to be comfortable with each other and have enough differences to keep things interesting,” said House as he stared off into space, a slight smile coming over his face.

“Exactly,” said Bonnie with surprise. “I wouldn't have pegged you to think that way.”

“I never used to.” House realized the team and Foreman were staring at him and quickly regained his composure. “I think we'll be able to spring you from the good ship lollipop on Thursday or Friday. As long as your labs continue to improve, we get the mining expedition closed up,” he said pointing to the bed sores. “And you keep eating, you'll be dancing on top of bars once again.” Bonnie narrowed her eyes.

“You have no photographic proof of that,” she said defensively. House looked at Kyle.

“You're right about her… champagne would be redundant.” Don James looked a little confused, but even he had to laugh.

“Dr. House, Dr. Foreman gave me a great understanding of a differential diagnosis, but I have some questions about your development of it, and your approach to cases,” said Don. “Would I be able to talk to you about it?” House was about to answer when his phone vibrated; it was Lydia leaving a text.

“I should be done in half an hour. I'll stop by the hospital and see how you're doing. Dein Schatz." House smiled and shook his head at Lydia’s sign off to him. Dein Schatz translated to “your sweetheart.” He became aware that everyone was staring at him.

“My stock broker. I just made a killing in sheep intestines.”

"Good to know you didn’t get fleeced," said Bonnie. House gave her a disapproving look. Bonnie laughed, and House watched as her husband took her hand. It was then that he made a spur of the moment decision.

"I'm not going to be here the next few days. This was my first day back after the building collapse I was injured in; Dr. Wilson was afraid I was coming back too soon and I think he was right. My team and I will communicate via smoke signals so I get the most up-to-date info on you.” House could see out of the corner of his eye that the team was looking at each other in puzzlement. “As for information about the DDX development,” he said to Don. “Leave your e-mail address with one of the team. They'll send you some articles from journals that aren't for naked, untrained eyes; but I have feeling you'll have no problem with them.”

“Thanks, Dr. House,” the boy said with a smile. House now addressed Kyle.

“The team will give you a run down on home care instructions; I can tell you now, it involves a bottle of champagne.” Kyle laughed.

“And never will it be appreciated more,” he said. “Once again, please accept my apologies for my behavior. Words can't express how grateful I am.” House hesitated for a moment when Kyle extended his hand. But one glance at Bonnie's face reminded him of the comments they made about their relationship and how he related to his with Lydia. He grasped Kyle's hand and shook it.

“You're welcome,” House said. He started to make his way to the door, but paused at the end of Bonnie's bed.

“I think you've got everything you need to deal with the pain,” he said glancing toward Kyle.

“I hope you do, too. Thank you, Dr. House.” He nodded and walked out of the room. The team exchanged looks and stood in an awkward silence for a moment.

“We're going to go write the orders and call for the consult,” said Thirteen. “One of us will be back in a minute.” Foreman led the group out of the room. He quickly surveyed the area and saw that House was still waiting for the elevators.

“House!” the four of them called out at once. He turned to look at them with a mixture of shock and confusion.

“What's the matter?” he asked.

“That's what we want to know,” said Chase. House looked at him as if he were crazy.

“There's nothing wrong,” House said turning toward the elevator, “Besides, I wouldn't tell you if there was.” He reached over and banged on the call button with the side of his fist.

“House, you've been distracted through the entire case. In the patient's room you alternated between being your usual self and being… kinder to the patient and her family than you normally are, to say the least,” said Foreman.

“Honestly, there were times you were just staring off into space like you weren't even paying attention,” Taub noted. House quickly passed through being annoyed and went straight to pissed off.

“If you were paying attention, you'd know that I'm the one who solved the case.” He looked at the others. “You were all coming up with half-assed ideas about rodent droppings and other crap.”

“House, you've got something on your mind. You wouldn't even cancel whatever plans you have for tonight to discuss what's going on with the department.”

“What do you mean, what's going on with the department?” asked Chase. Thirteen and Taub spoke over him asking similar questions. House looked around and started to pace.

“Remind me to get the measurements of your mouth so I can have a cork custom made for it,” he said looking at Foreman. Foreman shook his head from side to side.

“I'm sorry. It's just that we can't function if you can't concentrate on your job.” Foreman's words cut into House. He wasn't concentrating well; he was easily distracted at the moment… with good reason. He decided it was time to put an end to their questions.

“I don't normally reveal anything personal and I don't want to start now, but you've left me no choice.” House looked at the group standing before him. “I'm back on Vicodin. I don't want any lectures... ” House looked at Thirteen and saw she was hiding a smile behind her upraised hand. He looked at Foreman, Chase and Taub, but they were avoiding his gaze at all costs. “What the hell is going on?”

“I told you! I told you he'd try to blame it on Vicodin.” House turned to look at the nurses' station, the direction that the disembodied voice came from. Wilson popped out with a huge grin on his face and walked over to the group. “I called it… I called it!”

“So did I,” said Thirteen. “By the way, the three of you each owe Wilson and me twenty dollars.” Wilson stood there just nodding his head. House looked upon the scene with utter disbelief.

“Have you people all lost your minds? ‘Cause I have first-hand experience with it and you sure look like it to me.”

“I won rock, paper, scissors, so I get to tell,” said Chase. House's eyes burned right through him, but Chase paid it no mind. “We all decided to step outside to get some air earlier today and saw your little PDA by your parking space.”

“Little? I thought he was going to throw his cane up in the air the way Mary Tyler Moore threw her hat at the beginning of her show,” Taub said. House rolled his eyes and looked all around, finally focusing on Wilson.

“Vengeance will be mine,” he said. Wilson spread his arms open and stood there slack jawed and shaking his head.

“Wilson didn't tell us to go looking for you,” Thirteen said. “He just thought it would be a good idea to take a walk.”

“Hey! Whose side are you on?” asked Wilson. She looked at House.

“Given the look on his face, my own.” House looked down at the floor.

“So you see me and came running to him like pigs to the slop trough. And he told you … ”

“Everything,” the team said in unison. House picked his head up and glared at Wilson.

“I'm impressed. You actually have fewer morals than Perez Hilton.”

“If you didn't want to be seen, you should have picked a more private place,” Wilson admonished. House let out a disgusted sigh.

“Look at it this way,” said Foreman. “At least we know your behavior isn't attributable to your head injury, which we were afraid it was. Oh, by the way, they already know about the budget issues.” House shot him a look.

“Actually I'm sort of the one who told them,” Wilson said. “I was… ranting about the meeting Foreman and I had with the board members; they were passing by the conference room and heard enough to figure it out. I just confirmed it for them.” House nodded.

“I assume dealing with it can wait until next week?”

“It can wait for a little while,” Wilson said.

“OK, then this concludes this discussion of the social, political and geometric possibilities of my personal life. Cherish it and hold it dear, because there will never be another one again. Text, I repeat, TEXT do not call me each day and let me know how the patient's doing. Get back in there and take care of things. You,” he said turning to Wilson: “Come upstairs with me. Your tongue has an appointment with a meat grinder I have stashed in my office.” The team said their collective good-byes and turned their attention back to the patient. Foreman had stayed with House and Wilson.

“I'm going to head back down and start calling up those files we spoke about,” he said.

“Good idea. I'll be down in a few minutes,”' said Wilson. Several elevator cars had come and gone while they all had been talking, so House's original call was long gone. Foreman reached over to push the down button, when House hooked his wrist with the curved end of his cane.

“This elevator is going up. Don't need to push too many buttons and confuse it. You have two good legs. Use the stairs.” House said. Foreman was about to say something, when Wilson caught his eye and gestured to the stairs with his head. Foreman let out a deep sigh.

“No problem. See you down there.” He turned and left House and Wilson standing a distance apart. House reached over and once again pushed the button with the side of his clenched fist. He wouldn't look at Wilson and he wouldn't speak.

“House, if you're not going to talk to me, then why am I going upstairs?” Wilson asked. No response. “Really I have more important things to do than to stand here to be ignored.” Still no response. “They came to me because they were worried about you. You have been acting strangely all day and I know why, but they were just concerned.” Silence. “What is the purpose of me standing here?”

“Me getting the satisfaction of knowing it’s driving you crazy. It’s bothering you even more than when I used to leave dirty dishes in the sink.” The doors to the elevator opened and the two stepped in.

“When are you meeting Lydia?” House looked at his phone.

“In a few minutes. I just have to grab my backpack. I need you to do something for me; there's something I need to give the patient before she leaves for greener pastures. The patient's husband described her in younger and healthier days by saying that getting her drunk on champagne would be redundant. I want you to take some of your ill-gotten gains that you won at my expense, and buy a bottle of champagne. Make sure she gets it the morning she's leaving; and make sure she knows it’s from me.” The doors opened and House exited the elevator. He realized that Wilson wasn't next to him and turned to see why Wilson wasn't moving.

“What's wrong?” House asked. Wilson moved forward slowly, looking at House with widened eyes.

“Who are you and what have you done with Gregory House?” House took his cane and rapped Wilson across both shins. “Ow! Never mind, he's still here.” House began walking to his office with Wilson following gingerly behind.

“Of course I'm still here. Falling in love doesn't make you a different person; it hopefully makes you a better one.” House entered his office and began to shut down his computer. He noticed that his red coffee mug was missing, and saw that it was still by the coffee pot. He stared to walk into the conference room.

“You know, I've read a lot of psychology books. You sort of have to dealing with cancer patients. And I read something by Carl Jung that I think you could appreciate right now. He said, ‘The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances; if there is any reaction, both are transformed.’” House thought about Jung's observation for a moment, then grabbed his mug and started back to his office. He stopped where Wilson was standing at the end of the conference table.

“I know there are a lot of things about me that could stand to change; but I don't know if even Lydia could do it.”

“Oh, I know she can.” House looked at him. “You just walked from your office to the coffee machine, back to here… without your cane.” House quickly looked down at his hands, over to the coffee machine and then into his office; there sat his piano keys cane, right next to his desk where he left it. He looked at Wilson who had a huge smile on his face. “House, fight for her. Do whatever you have to do to keep her. Don't let your fears and doubts cause you to lose her. I've known you for years and I have never seen you this happy. Not even with Stacy.” House slowly walked into his office and put his mug down on the desk. “If I told you right now, that the only way you could be sure that Lydia would be happy the rest of her life, was for you to walk away, what would you do?” House looked at Wilson.

“I'd walk; I'd run if I could. She's had too many people hurt her in her life; I won't add my name to the queue.” Wilson smiled and nodded.

“Congratulations, you just passed part one of the ‘Are You in Love?’ test. You care about her happiness more than your own.” House looked over at Wilson.

“What's the next part of the test?”

“Keeping that feeling going.” House was about to say something when his phone buzzed. He pulled it out and saw Lydia had texted him. He quickly dialed her number.

“Hi there!” House smiled at the sound of her voice.

“Hey. I'm finished and I'm trying to get down to you, but Wilson doesn't want to let me go.” Wilson gave House a look.

“Well, I don't blame him; I don't want to let go of you either.”

“I'll be right down.” He ended the call and put the phone in his pocket. He grabbed his backpack and cane, looked at Wilson and said, “I'm outta here.” He left his office and started to walk to the elevators. Wilson followed and House noticed he was unusually quiet. House called for the car when they got to the elevator bank.

“I gave your tongue a stay of execution since I'm in a really good mood. Why so quiet?” Wilson shook his head. The car arrived and they entered the elevator. Wilson continued his silence on the ride down. After the car stopped and the doors opened, they exited to the lobby. Wilson suddenly stopped. House could see he was getting really emotional.

“House, I don't want to sound like a mush… but I am just really, really happy for you.” House knew he meant it, but he could also hear the longing behind his words. Wilson hadn't been with anyone really, since Amber. Now seeing House, of all people, find love had to hurt.

“Thanks. I just wish she had a sister.” Wilson finally made eye contact with House.

“Me, too.”

“I told you… she does have a best friend. And I've found that if you hang onto them long enough, you'll find they're actually good for something.” Wilson smiled.

“I'll see you next Monday. I won't tell you to enjoy yourself, because I know you will.” House looked through the lobby window and saw Lydia sitting in her car happily singing along to some song on the radio.

“Yeah… I’m sure I will.”


	11. "Top of the World"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> House leaves the hospital to spend some extended time alone with Lydia. On their drive to Otto's to get some take-out food for dinner, they stop to talk as House admits he's afraid he's going to somehow ruin the relationship.

“Out of the Ashes”

Chapter Eleven – “Top of the World”

By: purpleu

 

 

House walked out of the hospital and started to head toward Lydia. She was sitting in the driver's seat with the window down and singing along with a Billy Joel tune coming from the car stereo.

“Uptown Girl, she's been living in her white bread world.

As long as anyone with hot blood can, And now she's looking for a downtown man… ”

“That's what I am,” sang House quietly. Lydia jumped and put her hand to her mouth.

“You scared me half to death,” she said clutching her chest with her other hand.

“Sorry, it just seemed like the appropriate time to join in,” House said. He walked around to the passenger side of the car. “I like your choice in music,” he said as he got in.

“It's a CD that Annie put together; various pop music of all sorts.” She handed House the case. “Here's the playlist.” While he recognized all of the artists and most of the songs, there were some he wasn't familiar with.

“Billy Joel to Barbra Streisand to Lady Gaga; that's quite an eclectic mix.”

“Do you want me to turn it off?” Lydia asked.

“Nah, leave it on; I'm always up for expanding my musical tastes from the sublime to the kinky. So, how did the search for hearth and home go? And how about the kiddieland job? Never got the chance to ask you about that."

“I think we were discussing more important things,” said Lydia shyly. She put the car in reverse and pulled out of the spot. “The job interview went well. In fact, they kept the woman who was next to interview waiting, while they spoke more intently with me. There are two other people coming in tomorrow morning, and then they will make a decision about who gets a second interview.” She shrugged he shoulders. “I'll just have to wait and see.”

“Any other prospects lined up?” Lydia made a right out of the parking lot and headed to Otto's to get House's bike.

“No, not yet. I have several resumes out there, but with budget cutbacks in all the school districts, not many places are hiring. Where I went today was a private school, in fact.” House nodded.

“I hope at least they are offering you a decent salary. Private schools are notorious for lowballing what they pay,” he said. As she pulled up to the red light, Lydia put on the indicator for a right turn.

"It's within the range I had set for myself as being acceptable. I have money put aside that my ex couldn’t get his hands on. I’d be in an even better position if I didn’t have to split the proceeds of the house with him; the house that I bought and paid for." House suddenly realized she was heading toward Otto's without asking directions.

“How do you know where you're going?” he asked looking around. Lydia smiled.

“I figured out that the car comes with built-in GPS. I looked up Otto's address, and plugged it in. Plus, I just have to do the opposite of what I did to get here earlier in the day.” The light turned green and as she completed her turn, a soft voice said, ‘Go straight 5.1 miles.’ “I kept the volume low enough so it doesn't drown out the music.” House looked at her curiously.

“So, why did I have to give you step by step directions before?” he asked.

“I wanted to see if you knew your way around.” House shook his head.

“I think you just like the smooth and mellow tone of my voice.”

“There's that and I hadn't found the GPS yet.” Lydia quickly glanced over at him and smiled.

“How'd the living quarters hunt go?”

“Not as well as we hoped. We saw two places today, three yesterday and two on Saturday. All of them were either too small or too expensive. I arrived Thursday night, but Annie had come here three weeks ago. We're staying with friends of ours.” Lydia shook her head. “She's been looking before I even got here. Unfortunately, nothing has come up.” She reached down to take a sip of the soda resting in the cup holder. She offered the can to House and he took a drink as well. "Everything is still being negotiated as far as money, including child support. But my ex has already made it clear that if I have someone living with me, he wants the amount to be lessened, assuming that person would help me take care of the kids.” House looked at her incredulously.

“Even if there's no hanky-panky going on? Even if it's his sister?” Lydia nodded her head. “That's crazy. Has he forgotten it's his little tadpoles that helped procreate these kids? Who’s your lawyer? Bozo the Clown?” He saw the look on her face and wished he had kept his mouth shut. He knew he could talk freely around Lydia, but she seemed quite overwhelmed right now; he had the feeling there was something more on her mind.

“I have an excellent lawyer; Annie’s doctor recommended him, and when heard our story, he’s lessened his fees for us. It’s not like I don’t have any money… I do. But there were expenses through the years that I wound up paying for, not him. I inherited money from both my parents and grandparents; there’s also a business my grandparents owned that I get money from every year. It just seems like so much of it was eaten away by medical expenses for everyone over the years. There are education accounts put aside for the children, and I used some of the money to make the move here. Of course, the lawyer fees are an ongoing thing." House could see that she was fighting back tears. He was going to tell her to pull over, but they were so close to Otto's; he figured it would be best to park there and let her get it out.

“Can't you go back to court and renegotiate with the bastard?” Lydia put on the left turn indicator.

“Nothing has actually reached the court as far as final dissolution of assets or the custody arrangement for the children.” Lydia’s voice took on an angry tone. “I know he doesn’t give a damn about the children; he’s seeking some sort of custody just because he knows it would drive me crazy to think of them with that uncaring bastard.” She took a deep breath. “Right now, I just want to get the kids here and have some place stable for them to live. I got a call from the moving company today. The furniture is arriving tomorrow, a day early. I don't have any place to tell them to put it,” she said sounding desperate. Lydia made the turn and spotted a parking space a few doors away from Otto's and pulled in. She put the car in park and reached in the middle console for a tissue or napkin; the tears were beginning to flow. “I know I could rent a storage unit, but that costs more money and the kids wouldn't be in their own beds and… I'm not taking care of things very well.” House moved toward Lydia and put his arm around her.

“Slow down,” he said. “You missed a few spots on the Game of Life board.” She leaned into him, wrapped her arms around his neck and started to cry full force. House began to feel very uncomfortable. “I think this is where I’m supposed to say something to make you feel better. Too bad I’m not skilled enough in acting like a human being to make that happen,” he said wryly. He thought for a moment he had gotten her to laugh; but if he had, it quickly dissolved back into tears. He let her just hold on to him while he gently rubbed her back. He became aware of the song playing. He could tell it was Streisand, but he wasn't familiar with the song; the lyrics, however caught his attention.

With one more look at you, I could learn to tame the clouds and let the sun shine through.

Leave a troubled past and I might start anew. I'll solve the mysteries if you're the prize; refresh these tired eyes.

With one more look at you, I might overcome the anger that I learned to know. Find a piece of mind I lost so long ago.

Your gentle touch has made me strong again…and I belong again.

For when you look at me, I'm everything and more that I had dreamed I'd be.

My spirit feels a promise, I won't be alone.

We'll love and live more love and live forever.

With one more look at you, I'd learn to change the stars and change our fortunes, too.

I'd have the constellations paint your portrait, too; so all the world might share this wondrous sight

The world could end each night… with one more look at you.

Now, it was House's turn for tears. He fought them off as best he could; he wanted Lydia to calm down and not worry about him. Leave a troubled past and I might start anew. I'll solve the mysteries if you're the prize. It was like someone had crawled inside him, reached down into the hidden recesses of his psyche and ripped open his gut. My spirit feels a promise, I won't be alone. He wanted this more than anything he ever wanted in his life. Yet, hovering in the background was a black cloud of doubt. House kissed the back of Lydia's head. He felt her start to pull back away. She picked her head up until they were making eye contact. Lydia saw a tear that rolling down House's cheek; she brought her hand up to his face and gently brushed it away.

“You were listening to the words of the song, too,” she said. House nodded.

“I don’t believe I’m even paying attention to this song; I usually mock pop stuff like this. But here I am going all emotional on you.” House shook his head. “I don't…I don't know how to respond to this, to what I'm feeling. I said when I was at Mayfield that I was sick of being miserable,” he said. He looked down, not able to look directly at Lydia. “I'm feeling things and reacting in ways I thought… I was incapable of. All you had to do was tell me that you loved me… and now I believe that anything is possible.” He picked his head up and met her eyes. “I'm just still afraid I'm going to do something to screw this up, something to hurt you. You've had enough people do that; I won't add my name to the list.” Lydia reached up and cupped his face in her hands.

“Did you listen to yourself? Did you hear what you just said? You don't want to hurt me. You never said one thing about not wanting to get hurt yourself. I was your first concern; that doesn't sound like a miserable self-center bastard to me.” House closed his eyes, shook his head and smiled.

“What… planet are you from? ‘Cause no Earthling's ever been able to make me feel like this.” He opened his eyes and saw the twinkle back in hers.

“Make a right at the moon, thirty-trillionth star on the left,” she replied.

“It figures, I fall in love and it's a long-distance romance,” he said. Lydia laughed and leaned forward to kiss him. She traced the edge of House's right ear with the tips of her fingers, sending a shiver down his spine. She pulled away, but he wanted just to hold her.

"Come here… I need to feel you against me right now.” Lydia leaned forward, buried her head in his neck and snuggled in.

“I'm sorry I lost it before. There's just so much happening so quickly. I handled everything when my parents were ill; when I had no one I could lean on, I just focused and did what needed to be done. Now that I have you, I feel it's OK to be normal and let my frustrations out.” House leaned his head down and started to nestle his face into her hair.

“I think on the Richter emotional scale of one to ten that today would be a twenty-plus. Letting off a little steam is probably a good idea.” Lydia sat up straight and started to wipe her eyes with the tissue she found in the console.

“You're not smoking at the ears,” she said. House had a sly smile.

“Nope. I'm saving that for later.” Her eyes widened.

“Oooh, that sounds good.”

“I was hoping you'd like it. C'mon, let's go get some food before we both collapse. That would sort of put a damper on the evening.” Lydia smiled, put up the windows and turned off the car. They both got out and Lydia hit the clicker as she crossed in front of the car and joined House on the sidewalk. He held out his hand to her and as Lydia took it, he pulled her in close and gave her a kiss.

“I love you,” House said with a smile. Lydia was also smiling.

“I love you, too.” House put his arm around her as they started off down the street to Otto's. When they neared the door, Lydia said, “Greg, would you mind if we didn't eat here?” House shrugged.

“No problem; there are plenty of other places around. There's a good Italian restaurant, there's Thai… ”

“No, the food from here is fine. I meant could we take it to go back to your place? We've been surrounded by people all day and keep getting interrupted; I just want to have some alone time with you. Sooner rather than later.” House winced.

“Does that mean I'm going to have to cancel the wiener schnitzel cooking demonstration I arranged for tonight? I thought some of the smells of home might enhance the romantic mood for the evening.” House pulled open the door to the bar. Lydia stopped and put her hand on her hip.

“Cancel it right away. One, I don't need anything else to enhance the romantic mood for this evening; and two,” she stepped inside the door, “I can't stand wiener schnitzel.” House's mouth dropped open as he smiled.

“Oh, snap,” he said as he followed her inside. “You are a rebel at heart.” Lydia looked up at the ceiling and began to whistle innocently as they made their way to the bar.

“Hey, it's about time you showed up to get that thing out of my way. I was going to take the next offer I had for it.” The person who spoke was the bartender. He had his arms folded across his chest and a stern look on his face.

“How many offers have you had?” asked House.

“None. Who'd want that piece of crap?” He quickly looked at Lydia. “Excuse the language, miss. That's what being around this guy will do to a person.” House was looking down at the bar, clearly uncomfortable; but he figured now was as good a time as any to start trying to join the human race.

“Mike, this is my girlfriend, Lydia. Lydia, Mike. His father was Otto.” Mike looked surprised as he extended his hand to Lydia.

“Nice to meet you,” he said. Mike looked at House. “I didn't know you had such good taste.” Lydia looked down at the bar as she shook Mike's hand. She then glanced over at House.

“I think I'm the one with the good taste,” she replied. Mike looked a little taken aback. He laughed and shook his head.

“If you say so. I never argue with a lady.” He looked at House. “What can I get you?”

“A couple of menus,” said House as he sat down on a bar stool. “We're taking some food to go.” Lydia sat down on the bar stool to his right.

“No problem.” Mike reached behind the bar for two menus. ‘One for you,” he said as he placed the menu in front of House. “And one for the lovely lady.” He placed a menu in front of Lydia. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“Just water, please,” said Lydia.

“Water for the lady. And you?” Mike said addressing House.

“Nothing for me,” House said studying the menu. Mike shrugged.

“Suit yourself.” Lydia opened the menu and started to look it over. It was the typical bar/pub fare, but it all looked good to her right now. “Here you go.” Mike place a tumbler with water, several ice cubes and a slice of lemon in front of Lydia. “Do you know what you want or do you need a minute?”

“I'm ready,” said Lydia as she closed the menu and looked at House. He looked up from the menu and gestured for her to go ahead. “I'll take the turkey melt sandwich, the one with the melted mozzarella and garlic bread.”

“OK. Fries, onion rings or frings?” Lydia thought for a moment.

“Frings. I'll get the best of both worlds that way.” Mike smiled.

“Good choice. And you?” he said looking at House.

“I'll take the same thing, only with the steak tidbits. And I want them mooing.” He closed the menu and handed it back to Mike.

“Steak tidbits on garlic bread, rare. And frings.” House nodded. “OK, give me about ten minutes and you'll be all set.” Mike smiled as he took Lydia's menu from her. “Is there anything else I can get you?”

“The food, as quickly as possible?” Lydia requested. “I'm starving,” she explained.

“I'll put a rush on it just for you.” Mike left to go back into the kitchen area. Lydia picked up her glass and took a long drink. She savored it as it soothed her throat which was a little sore from crying. As she set the glass back down on the bar, she became aware of the fact that she was being stared at. She turned to her left and saw House, resting his chin on his upturned palm, his elbow on the bar. He had a smile on his face and a devilish twinkle in his eyes.

“Hey, lady; come here often? 'Cause I swore I saw you in here this afternoon.” Lydia gave a little flip of her head.

“I don't talk to strangers,” she said pretending to ignore him. House tilted his head to one side.

“Then I guess I should introduce myself.” He reached over, turned her face back toward him and kissed her.

“I like your way of saying ‘Hello’,” Lydia said. House stroked her face several times, just staring into her eyes.

“I wish I had known you twenty or so years ago; back when this happened to me,” he said, resting his other hand on his right leg. “I would have lost my leg… but I would have gained a measure of humanity.” Lydia looked horrified at what House said. She opened her mouth to speak, but couldn't find the words. House looked away. “I always said that humanity was overrated. But, I've figured out that the people who believe that, are the ones who don't have any.” Lydia reached over and took his hand.

“No, Greg. You have humanity in you. What you did at Mayfield was proof of that. You tried so hard to reach Annie for me, to bring her back to me. People without humanity don't care; but you cared enough to not only try and help Annie, you tried to help Freedom Master. And by helping him, you helped her. You gave me my best friend back.” House shook his head.

“I nearly killed the guy,” he said ruefully.

“I told you back then; your efforts were misguided and crazy, but you have a good heart. That's still true. It always will be.” She looked away for a second. “I just don't understand why you say you would have lost your leg. I never would have tried to force you into that decision.”

“No, I would have forced myself into that decision. If I thought it gave me the best chance of sticking around to be with you… I would have done it.” Lydia looked confused.

“But you weren't willing to do it for Stacy.”

“Stacy loved the part of me I let her know. She never knew the truth about my father, never knew or asked why I wanted to become a doctor. I never let her see me cry. I never let emotions that were that deep be seen. Never talked about the past. I kept wounds scabbed over with a bandage on them. I was afraid that if she saw what a piss-poor example of a human I'd be after losing a leg, I’d lose her. Ironically, as it turns out, I kept the leg and lost her anyway.” House had been staring at the floor. He rubbed his eyes and looked at Lydia. “Can I have some of your water?” Lydia handed him the glass. He took a long drink, almost emptying the glass. He set it back down on the bar. House could see that she wanted to say something, but was having a hard time.

“Greg, do you regret not giving Stacy the chance to deal properly with your leg?” House shook his head.

“We gave it a chance. I reacted the same way to losing part of my leg, as I would to losing the whole thing. It just didn't work between us, mainly because I never let her in. She would tell people that I was pretty much the same before and after the operation; but that wasn't true. She didn't know what it really did to me. She didn't know me. But that was my fault.” Lydia now took a drink of water and finished the glass. She set it down and turned to look into House's eyes.

“So, I guess I’ve convinced you to take the bandage off and let the scab get some air?” House smiled.

“Yeah… I’m picking at it now as we speak.” Lydia slid off her bar stool and leaned over to kiss House.

“Hey, none of that stuff in here,” said Mike approaching with the food. “I run a respectable establishment.” House and Lydia, just inches apart from each other, smiled. Lydia moved back to her seat.

“I think the health department would disagree with you,” House said, giving him a look.

“Well, then, I'll just take this back,” Mike said picking the plastic bag with the food up from the bar and turning to the kitchen.

“No!” Lydia said desperately. “”Your wings were delicious at lunch today.” She didn't want the food to go anywhere. The aroma had reached her nostrils and she was even hungrier than before.

“Lunch and dinner here? What better endorsement do I need?” Lydia looked over at House and saw that he had a “Yeah, right” sort of look on his face.

“What's the damage?” House asked taking out some money. Mike looked down the bar to where a customer was motioning for him. He acknowledged them and then turned to House.

“Nothing. As long as you promise to bring this breath of fresh air in here again,” he said looking at Lydia. House rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, tomorrow,” he said grabbing the food bag. Lydia smiled and extended her hand to Mike.

“Well, it was nice to meet you, Mike."

“You, too… Linda?”

“Lydia.”

“Lydia.” Mike repeated. He turned her hand over and kissed the back of it. House looked at the scene with obvious annoyance.

“Where's my bike?” he asked.

“Out back where you left it.” House nodded and started to walk away. Lydia quickly caught up with him.

“Aren't you going to say ‘Thank you and Good-bye?’” she asked quietly. “He was nice enough to give us our dinner for free.” House let out a sigh.

“I usually don't.” Lydia gave him a look. “Oh, all right.” He held up the food bag and said, “Thank you and good-bye.” He turned to Lydia. “Happy?”

“Yes. Good-bye.” she called to Mike. Mike waved as they walked out the door. Once outside, Lydia took the food bag from House.

“I think it would be better if I put this in the car with me. You're talented, but balancing this while riding your motorcycle might be a little too much.” House walked alongside her silently. He looked mad or annoyed, Lydia couldn't tell which. “What's wrong?”

“Does that happen to you all the time? You're introduced to a guy and he immediately starts flirting with you? First Wilson and now this guy.” Lydia's mouth fell open and it quickly turned to a smile. She continued to walk down the street and started to giggle. House looked at her with annoyance.

“What the hell is so funny?” he asked sharply. Lydia stopped walking and turned to him.

“You. You're so cute when you're jealous.” House looked stunned.

“Me? Jealous? Of what… him?” he said gesturing back toward Otto's. “Of Wilson? A three time loser?” Lydia gave him a knowing look. House let out a sigh. “OK. I'm not jealous of the barkeep. Being overly charming is how they keep their tip jar filled. And Wilson? He's like a little lost puppy. You just want to take him home and paper train him.” Lydia laughed and began walking again.

“Do you know what I like about Wilson? That he's your best friend and puts up with you and watched out for you until I could come back into your life.”

“So now it's your turn to put up with me?” Lydia rolled her eyes.

“I guess so,” she said letting out a sigh. They arrived at Lydia's car; she hit the clicker to unlock the doors.

“You are brave; you don't know the half of what you're in for,” said House straight-faced. Lydia opened the door and placed the food on the passenger seat.

“I can't wait to find out,” she said with an impish look on her face. She was startled by the sound of a ringing phone. Lydia pulled her phone out of her purse. “It's Annie,” she said.

“Meet me down at the driveway next to Otto's,” House said quickly. Lydia nodded and answered the phone as she got into the car; she immediately put it on speaker. House continued back to Otto's to grab his motorcycle. If it weren't for the fact that he was still limping, someone would say there was a spring in his step. He turned down the driveway by Otto's and made his way to his bike.

Happiness. House was always wary of it. He didn't know that he sought it out, as much he was curious about it. What did it feel like to be happy? Really and truly happy, knowing you haven't lied, you haven't held anything back, and you have laid everything out bare; House had the feeling he was on his way to finding out. He reached his bike, put his helmet on, placed his cane in its holder, and started his motorcycle. He slowly eased the bike forward until it was at the end of the driveway. There Lydia was waiting for him, still talking to Annie. She smiled as soon as she saw him and indicated for him to lead the way.

This. This is what it feels like to be happy. He wanted to kick himself for being afraid for so many wasted years. But, then maybe he wouldn't have found it anyway; not at least until he met Lydia. House pulled out; he forced himself not to drive too quickly. However anxious he was to get back to his place, getting pulled over would not make him very happy. He wanted nothing to ruin the rest of this evening.


	12. "Heaven"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> House and Lydia settle in at his place for dinner and a quiet, romantic evening that holds all the promises of their happy, crazy, wonderful future together.

“Out of the Ashes”

Chapter Twelve – “Heaven”

By: purpleu

 

It was a short trip to House's apartment. As he pulled down the street, he saw a spot behind his car; it was occupying his handicapped space near the entrance of his building. He motioned for Lydia to park in the open space right behind his car; he made a U-turn, and headed for an empty slot directly opposite her. He turned off his bike, glanced across the street and saw Lydia having a very animated conversation with… no one. At least that's what it would look like to an uninformed passerby; House guessed she was still talking to Annie on speaker phone. He took off his helmet and removed his cane from the bike. Making his way across the street, he could pick up on the conversation.

“That's wonderful. When is the concert?” Lydia asked.

“A week from Thursday. We're all familiar with the pieces, so we won't need much rehearsal. I am so thrilled for this opportunity.” House recognized Annie's voice. Even though he had not heard her speak much after she came out of her catatonic state, he could still hear her voice the first time she greeted Lydia with a simple, "Hi, sweetie," after being aphasic for so long. He could also never forget the look of pure joy on Lydia's face.

“I'm so happy for you, Annie. And what time did the realtor say we should come by?”

“Eleven-thirty. Let's hope that this one will work out. It sounds ideal for us,” Annie said. Lydia looked up at House and smiled. She pointed at him and then at the phone. House realized she was asking if he wanted to talk to Annie. He hesitated for a moment, but figured he might as well get used to this. Lydia's kids and Annie were part of the package deal. He nodded yes.

“Sweetie, there's someone here who wants to talk to you,” Lydia said.

“I guess now that you've found your voice, we're going to have a hard time getting you to shut up,” House said. There was no answer.

“House?” Annie's voice was small and quiet.

“Yeah, or as my new girlfriend calls me, Greg.” Lydia smiled.

“I… I mean Greg. I’m just used to what everyone at Mayfield called you. How are you?”

“Better now than when I woke up this morning,” he said as he winked at Lydia.

“Yes, I hear things have been going well,” Annie said. House rolled his eyes.

“Oh, great; I didn't know you were the type to kiss and tell,” he said addressing Lydia sarcastically.

“I've heard all the gory details,” said Annie with a teasing tone to her voice. “You had chicken wings and beer at lunch; you left your phone in her car… ”

“Did she tell you I kiss like a gagging goldfish?” House asked.

“No, she left that part out,” Annie said through her laughter. “I'd better let you two go eat while your food is hot. I'll let Lydia fill you in on what's happening.”

“Sounds good,” said House. “I know I'm starving.”

“Me too,” Lydia said. “I'll meet you at Gateway's office between 11:15 and 11:30.”

“OK, sweetie. Oh… Greg?”

“That’s my name for as long as I feel like answering to it.”

“I never got the chance to thank you for what you did for me. You… you gave me back my life.” There was silence for a moment.

“Yes, you did,” said House. “You brought this one back to me," he said as he touched Lydia's cheek with the back of his hand. “You’ve given me a chance at a life.” Annie sighed.

“The pleasure was all mine; I've never seen her so happy.” Lydia and House both smiled. “Well, you two have a good night.”

“We will,” they said at the same time. They could hear Annie laughing as she ended the call. House stepped away from the car as Lydia put up the window and opened the door. As she stood up, she came face to face with House who leaned in to give her a kiss.

“You should've seen the look on your face when Annie and I were talking.” House said. Lydia closed the door and started to walk to the rear of the car.

“And what kind of look was that?” she asked opening up the trunk.

“Like a kid who just found out that there really is a Santa Claus.”

“Well, of course, there's really a Santa Claus,” she said as she reached into the trunk and pulled out a large tote bag. She turned to House who stood to her right on the sidewalk. “Why is that even a question?” she said with an indignant tone in her voice. House gave Lydia a look as she stepped up next to him. He let out a sigh.

“I forgot,” he said. “You have kids who are young enough to still believe in that stuff.” He started walking and then stopped. “I hope you're not thinking that I'm going to play the part of the obviously cholesterol laden, slave labor endorsing, misanthrope, are you? I'll grant you there are similarities, but Ho cubed is not in my vocabulary.” Lydia was laughing so hard, she could hardly talk. She opened the passenger door and retrieved the food.

“Don't worry; you're safe. Unless you can think of a reason Santa walks with a cane.” She closed the door and turned to smile at him. House smiled for a moment, then cringed.

“Damn!” he exclaimed. Lydia looked at him curiously. “Kris Kringle used one in ‘Miracle on 34th Street.’” Lydia laughed as they started walking.

“I’m surprised you are even aware of that movie,” she said. House shrugged.

“My mother was a Christmas fanatic. Used to watch all the holiday movies. I watched them with her when I was still young and naïve.” They arrived at the door to House's apartment building. “Wait,” House said as he fiddled with his keys. “Isn't your son too old to believe in the mascot for an all-you-can-eat buffet?” He opened the door to the building and let Lydia pass by him. “Apartment B,” he said.

“Ben is at that in-between age; young enough for Santa and old enough for monster trucks.” House was about to put the key into the lock on his apartment door when Lydia spoke.

“Did you say monster trucks?” Lydia nodded. “Your son is into monster trucks?”

“With a passion. His favorite is something called Graveyard, I think… ”

“Grave Digger,” said House cutting her off. “Oh, snap. This is… weirdly cool. Your kid and I both like monster trucks.” Lydia looked concerned, but figured she would deal with the subject when it presented itself. One monster truck fan was difficult enough to deal with; two… ? House opened the door to his apartment and reached over to turn the light on. Lydia stepped in and took a quick look around; it was very apparent House wasn't expecting a guest. “Sorry for the mess, but I usually don't have to think about visitors.” Lydia smiled.

“That's OK. Unexpected company gets what it deserves.” She walked in and placed her tote bag on the couch.

“You don’t have a dining table?”

“Never had to worry about serving more than a party of two. That does the job just as well,” said House, pointing to the coffee table. Lydia walked over, and placed the food on the table. She removed the linen blazer she had been wearing, and laid it on the back of the sofa. House hung up his cane in its usual spot; he took off his suit jacket and tossed it on top of Lydia’s blazer. He looked over at her while she was standing by the table, unpacking the food from the bag. He hadn't really taken note of what she had been wearing; but now with the blazer off, it had his full attention. It was a silky wrap dress in a beautiful plum color which just made her all the more stunning, clinging appropriately to the curves of her body. With the blazer on, it gave a more conservative look to the outfit; with it off, it was an open invitation for lust. Of course, House wasn't aware of why she looked good; he just knew that she did.

“Greg?” House shook his head; he hadn't realized that Lydia had been talking to him.

“Sorry, what did you say?”

“I was wondering if you wanted to just eat right out of the take-out containers or if you have any other plates that don’t need washing,” she said carrying some soiled items to the kitchen sink. As she came out of the kitchen, House saw that she suddenly broke out into a smile and walked over to where the piano and House's other various musical toys were. “Why am I not surprised to find all of this here?” House shrugged.

“It's one of my more acceptable hobbies.” He was enjoying watching her run her hands gently over the piano. It reminded him of their first meeting at Mayfield; so much had happened since then, but somehow, it all led to this. “Why don't we just dive in and eat a la containers?” House asked.

“Good idea,” Lydia said as she walked back to the couch. They sat down and removed the lids on the foil take out trays. “It looks like I have yours.”

“Doesn't matter. I only ordered mine in self-defense,” said House. Lydia looked puzzled. “When two people plan on practicing mouth to mouth resuscitation in the course of an evening, it's a good idea that if one of the people orders garlic bread, that the other one does the same thing.” House tilted his head to the side and gave Lydia a phony smile. She put her hand up to her mouth and squeezed her eyes shut.

“Oh, I'm so sorry! I wasn't thinking; it just sounded so good and I'm so hungry that… ” She didn't get the chance to finish what she was saying because House leaned over and kissed her.

“I'm kidding; it's my favorite thing from Otto's besides the wings. Only I really do prefer the bovine.” House switched the trays so that each had what they ordered. Picking up their sandwiches, they ate for a while in silence, a sure indication of just how hungry they were.

“I could use something to drink with this. Want anything?” House asked as he made his way to the kitchen.

“Yes, thank you. Do you have iced tea?” House opened the refrigerator door.

“Wilson and my team came and raided my fridge while I was knocked out. They emptied everything out and bought fresh so I didn’t have to worry about food shopping when I got out.”

“That was awfully nice of them. They must really care about you.” House returned to the kitchen doorway and looked at Lydia.

“Wilson maybe, the rest of them fear me.” House looked at the bottle in his hand. “Looks like I’ve got peach-flavored iced tea,” he said crinkling up his nose in distaste.

“That's fine. Oh… wait a minute.” Lydia leaned over and fished around in her tote bag. House walked back to the table with Lydia's tea and a Samuel Adams beer for himself.

“I got a couple of things for tonight,” she said with a gleam in her eyes. “I hope you don't mind.”

“So I had to cancel the Bavarian cooking class, but you get to bring in some props. That's just not fair.”

“Hush,” Lydia said. “First, this is already cold, but I think we might want to keep it that way until we're ready for it” She pulled a bottle of champagne out of the tote and handed it to House. “Next, we have these.” She offered House a small rectangular box. He opened it and found chocolate dipped strawberries inside.

“I guess these should stay cold, too,” House said. He walked into the kitchen and placed both items in the fridge.

“I also bought some mood lighting,” she said holding up two pillar candles in glass holders. House walked over to her smiling.

“You went for every cliché in the book, didn't you?” he said. He took the candles from her and placed them on the bookshelf for now.

“Is that so? Are you complain… Greg!” House was startled by her sudden outburst.

“What's the matter?” Lydia put her hand to her head.

“I am so out of it… I just noticed; you're walking without your cane.” House shook his head.

“Here I thought something was really wrong; like they discovered that Lady Gaga is the love child of Madonna and Richard Simmons. I walk around my apartment without my cane most of the time. Gives my hand and arm a rest. Actually, I surprised myself today. Walked across my conference room without cheating.” Lydia's eyes opened wide.

“How did you do that?”

“Don't know. I was talking to Wilson, started to walk and the next thing I know, he's pointing out to me that I'm missing my trusty companion.” House paused for a second. “That's not true. I do know why I was able to do it. I was talking to him about you.” Lydia stood up and walked over to him.

“And what were you saying?” House looked down.

“That if to ensure your happiness I'd have to walk away from this, I would. That I don't want to hurt you… I'll do anything to make sure I don't do that. I'll stand on my right leg and balance that thing,” he said, gesturing toward his cane. “On my nose if it would do the trick. After everything you've been through, I just want you to be happy.” House looked at Lydia and saw the tears in her eyes. “I love you.” Lydia moved toward House and gently wrapped her arms around him. He returned the gesture and kissed the top of her head several times. She rested her head on his shoulder and held on to him tightly. They stood like that for a few moments before Lydia picked her head up and looked at House.

“Deep down, I know you keep questioning why I fell in love with you. It's because you've given me all I've ever wanted; to mean so much to someone that all they want is for me to be happy. No one's ever loved me that much before.” House smiled. “But, I knew from the start when we first met, that you were the one man who would love me like that. You were intense and passionate, and gentle and caring. I could see past the pain and the hurt, and I saw that special man in your eyes.” Lydia stroked the side of House's face and brushed his lips with her fingertips. “I want you to be happy… because I love you, too.” Maybe it was the fact that they were finally alone or maybe it was because he had dreamed so often of this actually happening, but House couldn't help himself as he ran his hands along the sides of her body and moved his mouth down to kiss her neck. She let go a few deep breaths that reminded House so much of her reaction to him at Mayfield. He reached between them and began to undo the tie on her wrap dress. “Greg, why don't I put the food away while you open the champagne?” Lydia said. She moved back slightly, but House kept his hands on her, running them up and down her back and around her hips.

“I really don't care about the food right now,” he said, pulling her back in and kissing her neck again. She reached up and put her hands on his shoulders.

“I'm hungry for something else right now, too. But I plan on both of us working up an appetite, so I want the food to be available to re-nourish us for round two, three, four… whatever.” House took a deep breath.

“You have high expectations for tonight. You do know my name isn't Harry Reems?” She looked at him quizzically.

“Who?” House shook his head.

“Porn star from years ago; had certain… equipment and a certain reputation.” Lydia nodded in understanding.

“I'm quite happy with what I remember. Of course, you'll have to refresh my memory.” House smiled. “Come, work on the champagne while I put this away,” Lydia said, picking up the two foil trays and heading toward the kitchen. House had finished his sandwich, but left some frings; Lydia had eaten half of her food.

“I thought you were starving,” said House bringing in his beer bottle and Lydia's iced tea glass.

“I was, but I fill up quickly. I'm one of those people who's better off eating several smaller meals. It's a good way to watch my figure.” House put the bottle and glass on the counter and came up behind her.

“You don't need to watch your figure; I'm taking care of that for you.” He wrapped his arms around her waist and started to kiss her neck again.

“Gregory House! You are supposed to be taking care of the champagne,” she said wriggling out from his grasp and turning around to face him.

“That's Doctor Gregory House to you, young lady.” She put her hands on her hips.

“Just get the bottle open… please. I want to make a toast to us.” She gave him a quick kiss and ducked out from under his arm. House took the champagne and strawberries out and was fiddling with the bottle. He looked over and saw what Lydia was doing.

“Why are you bothering with those? I'll deal with them tomorrow,” he said referring to the dishes she had removed from the living room earlier. She glanced over her shoulder at him as she continued to rinse them.

“And how many tomorrows have gone by since you used these? I'm going to let them soak overnight.” She squirted some dish detergent onto the dishes as she ran water to fill the sink. Lydia suddenly realized that House was opening various cabinet doors, obviously looking for something.

“What's the matter?” House looked frustrated.

“Champagne glasses are not something I've needed to keep around. Right now our choices are this,” he said holding up a coffee mug. “And this.” He showed Lydia a small juice glass. She smiled as she dried her hands, walked back to the living room, and headed toward her tote bag on the couch. House watched her curiously. “If you pull champagne glasses out of that bag, I'm going to start calling you Mary Poppins,” he warned. He watched her rummage for a second and then turned to him with a lump of tissue paper in each hand.

“Super-cali-fragalistic... ” she began to sing. House winced and looked at her in disbelief.

“I'm dating the female version of Wilson,” he said shaking his head. “Prior to this, he'd be the only one to think of this kind of… detail.” Lydia smiled.

“I'll take being compared to James as a compliment.”

“Yeah, you would.”

"Tell the green-eyed monster to go away. You know you have nothing to worry about from him.” House gave her a look. “Or anyone else for that matter.” She gave him a kiss as she continued to the sink. “I just want to rinse these before we use them.” House nodded.

“Why don't I take the candles and strawberries to my workshop while you're doing that?” he asked.

“Good idea.” House picked up the fruit and went to retrieve the candles from the bookshelf.

“Annie sounded good on the phone,” he said. Lydia didn't answer. He thought perhaps she didn't hear him, so he took a step back and looked through the kitchen doorway. House saw Lydia with her hands resting on the kitchen counter and her head bent down. He debated with himself whether to give her a moment alone or to go in and check on her. Maybe she just needs a sec, he thought; after all, this has been one hell of a day. As quickly as he could, House went down the hallway to his bedroom. He placed one candle and its holder on his night stand along with the strawberries. The other candle and holder he put on the other night stand. House began rummaging through the drawers for a lighter; he knew he had one somewhere. One finally turned up and he lit the candles. Realizing, he didn't make the bed that morning, something he never did anyway, he pulled up the sheets and coverlet and tried to make them look neat. House knew they would be getting messed up shortly, but he wanted everything to look as good as it could for Lydia. He sat down on the bed and set his i-Home to shuffle and lowered the volume to a less than ear-splitting level like he usually kept it. As he stood up, House looked down at his feet; might as well take the sneakers off now, one less thing to get in the way later. He sat down and removed his shoes and after a second look, took off his socks as well. Why not? His final destination for the night was going to be right here. Walking toward the doorway, House paused and took a moment to survey the room. If anyone had told him this morning that his night would end here with Lydia, he would have lobbied for their instant commitment.

“My workshop is all set up,” House called out. “Now I just need someone who can handle my equipment.” House walked back down the hallway to the living room and found Lydia sitting on the couch, in much the same position as he had left her in the kitchen. She wasn't crying, but she didn't look happy. He moved toward the couch and sat down next to her. She picked her head up and turned it in House's direction.

“Greg, I have to tell you something… I wasn't completely honest with you back at Mayfield. I knew… somewhat… why Annie stopped talking. I don't know why I didn't tell you. I knew, especially as a doctor you would understand; but it was just something I didn't want spread all over the place. It was hard enough to deal with.” House reached over and took her hand.

“There's nothing that says that just because a guy can play a piano without being too heavy on the right foot, you have to spill your guts to him.” Lydia looked at him gratefully. She took a deep breath and began speaking.

“Annie was savagely attacked, raped… gang raped… and beaten by the man she was seeing and two of his friends. She came home early from rehearsal and caught them robbing her apartment. I never liked him; he always seemed to be on something, but always oh, so charming about things. How little we knew. They stayed there and assaulted her for hours. In the evening, we were supposed to meet for dinner and when she didn't show up and didn't answer her phone, I went to her apartment to check on her. I had a key and let myself in… and I found her.” House squeezed her hand gently and brought the other up to his head. He felt a flood of emotions; anger at the SOB's who committed the crime, sympathy for Annie for what she endured and deep admiration for Lydia. How much more could life dump on this woman and yet, she's stays so strong. Maybe she can handle me, House thought selfishly.

“Keep going when you're ready,” he said. Lydia picked up a glass of water she had brought into the room with her, took a sip and continued speaking.

“She had five broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder, a broken leg, her spleen had to be removed, a concussion and a broken jaw. Due to swelling on the brain, she was in a coma for eight weeks. There was no brain damage, thank God. They ran DNA tests and were able to identify her attackers. I couldn't believe it when I heard that they tried to claim it was consensual, that she asked to be treated roughly and things got a little out of hand.” She took her hand away from House and held both of hers in clenched fists. “Those bastards were out on bail from a prior assault case a few months before. Of course Annie didn't know that when she began seeing the guy. When she woke from the coma, she couldn't talk because her jaw was still wired shut. The police tried to get her to write down answers to questions, but she refused, she just kept shaking her head no. They opened up her jaw about two weeks before she went completely aphasic and catatonic, but she still wouldn't talk about what happened. Then she stopped talking about… everything.” She reached over for the water again.

“So, I take it the case never went to trial because she wouldn't talk and the scumbags were let go to roam the streets again,” House said. Lydia nodded as she took a drink.

“Yes, except fate stepped in. A few months after Annie went to Mayfield, the boyfriend and his two friends were in a car accident and killed. Single car accident, didn't hurt or harm anyone else.” She put the glass down on the table.

“What goes around comes around,” said House. He moved in closer to Lydia and put his arm around her. “She was at Mayfield all those years, not responding to anything. I can only imagine how traumatic the incident was to her, but over a decade of playing Harpo Marx? There's something else that she's not telling you.”

“Actually she did tell me when she was in therapy out in Arizona. She found the most wonderful doctor who made tremendous strides with her. She has come so far, it's amazing.” She paused and let out a sigh. “She didn't talk to protect me.” House looked puzzled. “When Annie thought the men had left, she tried to crawl to the phone. It turned out that the boyfriend came back in for something, and when he saw what she was doing, he became enraged. He ripped the phone out of the wall and smashed her on the side of her head and face with it. That's when she suffered the broken jaw and concussion. He told her to keep her mouth shut about who did this to her or he would do the same thing to ‘That little German… ’ He used a word that's not normally in my vocabulary.” Lydia was clasping and unclasping her hands and shaking her head. “She stayed mute all those years for me. I told her when they were killed in the car accident… that they were gone, that they would never be able to hurt anyone again, but it didn't seem to matter.”

“Of course not,” said House. “After hours of being abused, she's in horrifying physical and mental condition; and tries to process how to handle the threat against her best friend. She's in a coma for weeks, and when she finally wakes up, her lips are zipped. Someone has made sure she can’t squeal. And even though logically it was a medically necessary thing to do, in her fragile mind, it was the only way to stop the creep from carrying out his threat. By the time the wires came off, she was too far gone to be reached.” He looked at Lydia and saw she was teary-eyed. “I'm sorry; I didn't mean to be so clinical about this. I guess I'm just a bit shocked at how much you two have gone through.” He reached over to her face and brushed away a tear. “There's one thing I'm still not entirely sure about. What was the deal with the music box? Why did Freedom Master call it her ‘voice’?” For the first time during the discussion, Lydia smiled.

“Annie was painfully shy as a child and on through her early teens. She was and still is a brilliant cellist and vocalist. One of her teachers gave her the opportunity to do a solo recital at the local community theater. At the end, she received a standing ovation and was approached to perform with a larger orchestra; that was the start of her career. It changed her, made her more able to be… social, to be open. Years later when we met, she told me the story. On the night she was making her debut with the Philadelphia Philharmonic, I wanted to give her something special, so I had the music box made for her. When I gave it to her, I told her it was in honor of her finding her voice.” House smiled.

“I'm going to say the song that the box plays has something to do with the recital from her teenage years.”

“Yes, it was her finale piece. Well, part of it.”

“You would think of something like that. What I don't get is how did Freedom Master make the connection?" Lydia smiled.

“I told him.” House looked surprised. “Freedom Master… Steve… had actually been in and out of Mayfield a number of times over the years. His delusions were getting worse and worse. When I first thought to bring the box to try and provoke a reaction, he was there. At first, she wouldn't hold the box; she wouldn't touch it, no acknowledgement that it was even there. He came over and asked me what I was doing. I said I'm trying to give her back her voice. He took the box from me and I swore as he offered it to her, there was a slight reaction. But then another patient came by and grabbed the box out of his hands. The nurses suggested I leave the box up on the shelf to keep it safe and yet, where Annie could still see it. The day after that Freedom Master left and he didn't come back for a while. When he returned a few months later, you were new as were some of the other people there, except for Annie. I guess when he saw her staring at the box on the nurses' shelf, he remembered what I told him and he tried to save her and well…you know what happened from there.” House shook his head, took his arm out from around Lydia and leaned forward.

“Idiots!” he said angrily. “All of us! The nurses, Nolan as her attending, and me. She stood there day after day, hour after hour looking at that shelf. And no one could figure out what she wanted.”

"You can't blame yourself. They all knew her case; they knew what the music box meant to her. If anyone is to blame, it's them and me for not being more insistent,” said Lydia, “But after trying so many times to get her to respond, I stopped. But you… ”

“I work in Diagnostics.” House jumped up off the couch. “The world famous Dr. Gregory House… and I couldn't see that she was begging for that box the only way she knew how.”

“But you saw what Freedom Master needed; someone to believe in him... not his delusions, but him as a person. You tried to bring him a little bit of happiness; and in response to doing that, he was able to reach Annie.” House hung his head down and sat back on the couch. He knew Lydia was right; he just felt that there was so much more he could have done. He looked over at Lydia and saw the look in her eyes that he most loved to see: happiness. He moved over close to her and pulled her into his arms. She snuggled in tight to him. “I'm sorry I waited until now to tell you about Annie. I was trying to find the right time all day, but it just never worked out.” She looked up at him. “I'm just afraid now that I've ruined the mood for you for the evening.” House looked at her incredulously.

“I don't know how you're able to talk so openly about all of this… everything we've discussed today. If it were me, I'd be hiding behind acerbic comments and just walking away.”

“No, you wouldn't. Look at how much of yourself you told me about today. You talked about things that I know were very painful for you; you didn't hide.” House sighed.

“That's because I was talking to you. I said some things to you I don’t think I’ve ever discussed with Wilson. But, what you've been through in your life… most people would say game, set, and match… I’m done.” Lydia sat up straight.

“What was I supposed to do? Sit with my head in my hands and cry? The only thing you get from that is wrinkly fingers.” House thought for a moment.

“Isn't wrinkly the opposite of irony?” Lydia's eyes opened wide as she gave House a playful little tap on the shoulder.

“You would say something like that,” she said as she laughed.

“Yeah, I wouldn't be me if I didn't.” He smiled and gave her a kiss. “And as far as ruining the mood for tonight… no way. If anything, I fell more in love with you; you are amazing.” He kissed her once, twice and again and again until she moved back a bit. She had a twinkle in her eyes and smile that spelled mischievous.

“Why don't you finish opening the champagne? I put it back in the refrigerator to keep it cold while we talked.” 

“Beautiful, amazing and smart; boy do I know how to pick 'em. Except for that whole Felix Unger thing about cleaning things up all the time.” House rose from the couch and went into the kitchen to get the bottle. Lydia got up and stood with her hands on her hips.

“From the looks of those dishes, they had been sitting there a while. I just didn't want anything to come crawling in on me while I was… doing things.” House smiled as he emerged from the kitchen with the bottle and the glasses.

“I've been home from the hospital less than a week. I'm not back into the swing of things yet. I do keep things a little neater than this.” Lydia looked at him quizzically.

“Less than a week? Are sure you're up to this?” House put the glasses down on the coffee table, took Lydia's hand and placed it on his groin. She let out a gasp in surprise. “You do believe in clinical proof, don't you?” House smiled, picked up the glasses and started whistling as he walked down the hall. He stopped, turned and motioned for her to follow him.

“Step into my laboratory and I'll give you clinical and empirical proof.” She took a few steps toward him.

“Just one question: where is the bathroom?”

“Down at the end of the hall. The bedroom's down there, too. Come on,” House said gesturing with his head. Lydia walked beside him down the hall.

“You seem nervous,” Lydia said as they reached the end of the hall.

“Me? Nervous? Why would I be nervous? I've done this at least… ” House quickly caught himself; any number remotely near the truth would definitely make Lydia uncomfortable at this point. “…At least once or twice before.” She smiled and headed into the bathroom. House quickly went into the bedroom. The candles were good, the music sounded great and the strawberries looked delicious. Great. He began working on getting the rest of the wrapping off the champagne and popping the cork. He was certainly not going to use a sword on this. He did know how to do it and was in fact good at it, but he was taking no chances at this moment. He worked the cork and the familiar POP sound coordinated with the opening of the bathroom door. House quickly poured some of the bubbly into the two glasses.

“Here we go,” he said as he turned toward Lydia. What he saw standing before him, made his words catch in his throat. She had undone the belt on her wrap dress, and opened it to reveal a silky, black lace teddy. As she walked toward him, she slipped the dress the rest of the way off her shoulders and let it fall to the ground.

“I did some shopping before we met up this evening; I mean for more than just that,” she said pointing to the champagne and the other goodies. “I wanted to look special for tonight. One, because this seemed like the perfect time to start working on my bad girl persona and two, because I'm looking forward to celebrating something very special; the beginning of us.” House was stunned at how beautiful and sexy she was. He had an idea from their time at Mayfield, but never imagined anything like this. Offering one of the glasses, he smiled and could not stop running his eyes over her.

“To us,” House said.

“To us.” answered Lydia. They clinked their glasses and each took a drink. House set his down on the night stand and moving closer to Lydia, let his hands travel the same route his eyes had. He kissed her gently on the lips.

“Damn… you look incredible,” House said huskily as his hands continued to move. “I’m… I’m just so damned afraid that I’m dreaming or it’s an illusion of some kind.” He looked at Lydia. “I just can’t help but wonder whether you’re real or if my mind has stepped out on me again.” Lydia shook her head. She placed her drink next to House's on the bed table. Reaching up, she took his face in her hands, and kissed him. Taking her right hand away from his face, she searched with it for his left hand and upon finding it, placed it on her shoulder. Guiding his hand, she had him slip the strap off her; the move dropped the rest of the fabric down, exposing her breast. She then guided his hand to it, closing her eyes upon contact, and letting out a little gasp as he began to lightly massage her skin. Lydia opened her eyes, and saw his were closed with a huge smile on his face. She reached up to his ear, kissed it and whispered,

“Does that feel real to you?" House opened his eyes and nodded.

"Does it ever." As much as he hated to move his hand, he took it and wrapped it around Lydia's shoulders; with his other hand, he reached down and scooped her up at the knees. Turning, he handled the two or so steps to the bed and placed her gently on it. House started to climb on to the bed, when he stopped and said, "Wait. This isn't fair."

“What isn't?” House smiled.

“I've got too many clothes on.” Lydia laughed.

“I think I know to fix that.” She reached up and helped House take off his t-shirt. She began to run her hands over his torso, clearly enjoying what she felt. Her hand wander down further, which made House start to breath heavily.

“I’ve got to get these pants off; someone’s getting smothered.” Lydia watched as House stood up, unzipped his pants, and pulled them off his legs. He sat back down on the edge of the bed, slightly turned away from Lydia; he wasn’t moving.

“Greg, what’s wrong?” Lydia asked, running her hands gently over his shoulders. House kept his head turned away as he answered.

"Very few people have ever seen my scar. Certainly not too many people that I care about. It’s bad enough that I have to look at it every day; I hate to torture anyone else with it.”

“You know, we missed out on you being my ‘first,’ but maybe can I be the first person you weren't afraid to show your leg to?” She kissed his cheek and ran her fingers slowly down his chest. House didn't want her to see him lose it, but as he nodded his head yes, and silently turned so she could see the scar, he felt tears welling up in his eyes. He watched as Lydia looked at the scar.

“Will it hurt if I touch it?” she asked.

“Only if you have Freddy Kruger hands,” he said, trying to make light of the moment. Lydia’s fingers slowly traced the edges of the scar, then moved to the middle. She took her hand away and looked at House.

"I think it's beautiful," she said. House swallowed hard and shook his head.

“You’re crazy,” he said, turning his head away from her.

“It’s beautiful because on the off chance that you were wrong, and others were right… this is what had to happen to keep you alive. And for that, I am forever grateful.” Lydia placed her hand back on the scar. “To be honest with you, it’s a lot smaller than I imagined it in my mind. Of course, there’s also the fact that the rest of you MORE than makes up for it,” she said with a smile. House was so amazed at her response, that he couldn't help himself; he grabbed Lydia and hugged her tightly. She could feel a shudder go through his body as he tried to contain his tears. Her reaction to his scar was not what he expected; love and sympathy, instead of revulsion. Lydia stroked the back of his head, and whispered "It's OK." repeatedly in his ear. He pulled back to look at her face. There was no great epiphany; he had not suddenly become a religious man. But if heaven did exist, House was sure this was it.

“Ich liebe dich, Fraulein.”

“Ich liebe dich, auch, mein Liebester,” replied Lydia. She lay back on the bed and pulled House to her. He gladly moved toward her to start what he was sure would be many nights like this. And he also made a mental note; the philosopher Jagger was wrong.

Sometimes you can get what you want AND what you need…..


	13. "Epilogue by Dr. Gregory House"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> House gives his thoughts on "Out of the Ashes" and lets readers have a few hints about the next story, "Puppet Master"... as only House can tell it.

“Out of the Ashes”

Chapter Thirteen – “Epilogue from Dr. Gregory House”

By: purpleu

 

 

Readers of “Out of the Ashes,”

First things first… I am not doing this of my own free will. I’d much rather be hiding at home with Lydia doing all sorts of fun and nasty stuff than be talking to you people. Especially since that moron, the entity who calls themself purpleu, just dragged me through a pit of lava hot emotions. What kind of name is that… purpleu? I had a hooker once named Magenta Z… I wonder if there’s any kind of connection? Never mind… don’t tell Lydia I mentioned anything about that. Let me get this over with so I can go on to more important things… I just hope I’m getting paid for this.

As you’ve just read, Lydia’s come back into my life; a fact that still floors me. No matter what else I did or who I tried to hook up with after I saw Lydia for the last time, she was never far from my mind. And while she’s told me a lot about her life before we met, there’s even more to come that will knock my socks off in the next story. Or at least that’s what Lavender X, or whatever the person writing this wants to call themselves, tells me. And I let loose with a few facts about myself that might surprise you, too. Again, the matter is completely out of my hands; I’m letting Pinky P do the talking for me.

I did however, get a look at the outline for the upcoming story called, “Puppet Master.” You know, I’m used to people going after me with lawsuits and other things that are annoying, but go after my team? And my best friend, Wilson? And my new girlfriend, too? The Wrath of Kahn pales by comparison to the Wrath of House. So while I’m dealing with a sleazy lawyer named Malcom Hunter, I’m also going to try to help Lydia get settled down into her new life… which includes me and my own unique approach to handling things. Oh… I’m also going to stand back and watch as Wilson hits up potential Mrs. Wilson number four… Lydia’s best friend Annie. Fun and excitement for one and all.

So give Periwinkle Q a little time, and shortly you won’t need me to tell you about the details of “Puppet Master,” a fact that thrills me to no end. I’ve got better things to do; I’ve got a bottle of Macallan’s whiskey and the hot mama who loves me waiting… how cool is that?

Signed,

House

(I only wrote that under duress from purpleu. She threatened to never write another bedroom scene between me and Lydia again… I’m not taking any chances.)


End file.
